Merican Soldier
by Pabs
Summary: In the Age of Apostasy, Earth lies in turmoil. Warbands fight for control and Mars Adepts torment earthlings. The Emperor, a powerful warlord, has begun his unification wars. Merica stands as the final civilized land, and Corrin Grant must help defend it.
1. Chapter 1

Johnson threw down the newspaper, his face red with anger. "Emperor…who the hell does this guy think he is?" Corrin looked at him and shrugged.

"You've got hand it to him, he's a military genius! Kalagann has already been defeated. Now that's something we've been working on for years." He could have gone on, but he knew Johnson. He wouldn't give up.

The Iho Stick twiddled in Johnsons mouth as he pondered. "No need to think about it Johno. If the generals throw us into combat with this guy, so be it. We fight and die. It's our job."

"I guess…" But Johnson was cut off by the buzz of the announcement horn.

6th Company, report for mission brief++

"This is it then Cor?" Johnson asked. Corrin nodded and stood. The smoking Iho fell lightly out of his mouth. This was it.

The door slammed shut behind Corrin. He was the last in. The briefing room was filled with company command: Sergeants, Captains, all the way to the Supreme Commander. "All right boys, I know how we usually do this. I give the briefing, you ask questions, and we roll. Well, today is different. There is no question. We fight against this lunatic until death." The general smiled. "I have a very special guest here who believes this mission of the utmost importance." He swung his arms towards a hidden, shadowed man. He stepped forward. There were a few gasps. "May I present the Commander and Chief of Merica, Mister President Gregory O'Connor." There was thunderous applause. The President bowed.

"Glad you could all be here today!" The men smiled. "I cannot stress enough victory in this mission. This…insane figure is encased in delusions of grandeur. He screws with basic Humanity and embraces…" There was a spiteful pause "…Psykers as normal beings."

He began to pace. "In this war, you will find yourself thrown up against many warriors of greater strength than you. But there are no soldiers on this great Earth braver than you!" There was a murmur of agreement and laughs throughout the crowd. "Damn it, you will not falter. Not in my name, in the name of your countrymen. Do this for Merica!" The room shot up in explosive cheers. "Ship out, pack up. You leave immediately!"

The massive A-36 Drop ship was an inspiring sight. A symbol of the resilience of Merica. Throughout its sixty years of existence, the country, one of the final civilized communities, had relied on the 36er to drop the Chief's fury onto his enemies. Corrin sighed. He wasn't sure how much it inspired him now. He would not falter in body, but his mind had already felt the bump.

They were flying off to combat the "invincibles;" fearless, genetically altered warriors without conscience. How could they be defeated? He had fought the adepts of Mars, the barbarians of the Panpacific, the horrific warriors of Nordyc, but he had never faced an enemy with no fear.

The drop ship shook slightly in the turbulence. There was a second lurch, this time larger. Next, a sudden resounding bang echoed across his ears. The ship rocked with the strength of an Earthquake.

We are entering forward camps of the enemy++

It was amazing how far this "Emperor" had already pushed into Merican territory. It was only a matter of time before the base was taken. A second explosion rang out. He felt the whoosh of air.

Air lock breach Alert++

"Shit!" He heard Johnson yell. He looked around. The faces of his squad were covered in terror. The latches receded from their seats.

Emergency Air Drop Procedure Ordered++

"Go! line up and check!" Corin roared at his men. They immediately formed a line. He heard the word repeated over and over. "Check." "Check." "Check." He felt a pat on his back.

"Check!" He bellowed. The exit door ahead of him sprung open. His flesh pulled against his skull, screaming for release. The wind blew his hair into a heap. He lightly pressed the release button and began to fall.

Anti Air fire exploded all around his descending form. He watched in horror as one of the Drop Ships plummeted to the ground in a ball of fire and steel. So called "Thunderbirds" soared across the sky, strafing A-36's and blasting down drop troopers.

A bullet whizzed past his head. There was a twang. One of the strings of his chute unwound and trailed into the air. He picked up speed. He spotted a small clearing in the trees below. The ground closed on him until there was no escape…


	2. Chapter 2: Battlefield

Corrin scrambled from the ground immediately. His slug rifle pivoted around, looking for enemies. He was alone. He had been lucky. He had barely maneuvered into the clearing. If he had landed in the trees…He shook his head to dismiss the thought. With a slight tug, his knife eased out of its sheath. He sawed quickly at the light ropes of his chute. They fell loose and floated gracefully to the hard earth below.

He unlatched his scanner. The forest was streaming with action. He couldn't readily discern from friend or foe on the tiny device. All he knew was that there were enemies, and if he didn't find someone soon he'd be a dead man.

He quietly moved from the clearing and into the forest. There was a crunch as pieces of bark from a tree too his left blasted his face. "For the Emperor!" Someone roared. He spun around. Three soldiers in ornate, gold flak armor rushed towards him.

He brought his rifle to his shoulder and felt the recoil spit against his bone. One man fell in a storm of blood. The others halted in their tracks and drew odd, advanced weapons. "Damn…" Corrin muttered. The forest exploded around him. Red beams of energy soared past his head, leaving an echoing buzz in his ears.

He was away in seconds, sprinting through the underbrush. "Kill the non-believer!" Another man wailed. They were the zealous kind. There was a ruffle as another figure ran straight into him from the side.

"Shit, Shit!" It was Johnson.

"Johno, calm down it's me!" Corrin whispered. They lay in the green foliage, still, unmoving. The two soldiers marched by.

"Where…did he go?" One asked.

"He fled in the might of the God-Emperor. We do not need to worry of a single man." The other replied with joy. They veered off to the left, towards the noise of combat.

"God, Corrin, you gave me a scare. I thought they had me." Johnson muttered as he stood.

"We're getting pushed back everywhere it seems then. We can't let this happen. We need to get to the City." Corrin replied purposefully. Johnson nodded. They rushed off towards the battle.

The battlefield was Hell. Burnt out trees lay across the blood stained ground. They had not been the first to fight there. The National Guard forces stationed in the City of Angels had fought for many weeks to keep the city protected, but it had fallen nevertheless. Imperial entrenchments lay sprawled out across the smoking remains of the forest.

Now, 6th company had come to take La Ciudad Los Angeles back. The Imperial forces would not give up easily. Corrin's eyes ran across the desolate field. Soldiers of both sides rushed back and forth along the field, fighting and dying. Just beyond lay the City of Angels.

He bounded forward, letting a stream of continuous fire explode from his gun. When he was alone he was nothing. Together, as they were, the Merican Army would not fall.

Two Imperial's fell prey to his biting bullets. A gun emplacement began chugging out explosive bolts from a trench nearby. Corrin lunged left and deftly slid into the gravel tunnel. "Halt, non-believer." Someone said coldly from behind him. He turned. He felt cold steel pressing against his forehead. An Imperial Officer, a look of disgust on his face, stood there with his pistol to Corrin's head. "The plague of unbelief that covers this earth will fade…"

Corrin stood still as he watched someone else slide into the trench behind the Imperial. "…along with you!" The Officer finished. Corrin swallowed. The man's finger slid to the trigger. There was a small blast. Corrin shut his eyes. He felt hot liquid splash across his face.

His eyes blinked open. The Imperial stood there clutching his chest. Confusion and fear was written on his eyes; emotions that quickly faded and left a blank, empty shell. He fell to the floor. Johnson stood behind him. "Can't leave a brother behind!" The man laughed. Corrin ceased to move for a moment, then nodded.

That officer had been like him, yet, so different. The sounds of battle screamed back into his ears. He heard the methodical bursts of death emerging from the gun emplacement a few yards away.

The two soldier's turned in unison. The firing stopped. They watched as the gunners frantically reloaded the huge machine. Corrin, followed quickly by Johnson, charged forward with his gun blazing. Two of the crewmen turned in terror and shouted words of the Emperor's language. One dove behind a sandbag wall. Cold death caught the other.

The main gunner looked up briefly and shot his head back to the battlefield in an attempt to mask his fear. The Imperial behind the sandbags spun out. A burst of light shot from the man's gun. Corrin felt a sharp pang on his shoulder, but continued on.

The man shot back behind the wall, only to emerge again. Corrin was ready. He leapt forward and propelled himself into the man's chest. Sticking his knee onto the downed Imperial's ribs, he upholstered his pistol and ended the unnamed soldier's life. Johnson emerged in the emplacement bunker and fired a quick shot into the back of the gunner's head.

The two Mericans stood there for a moment, examining their work. Then, the silence was broken by a single word, resonating across the walls and echoing through their ears: "Artillery!" The ground shook in terror at the word. A series of explosions rang out across the battlefield. The two only hesitated for a moment. There was a slight whizzing sound. Corrin bolted from the bunker and across the trench, Johnson's footsteps behind him the whole time. There was a horrible burst of sound. Rock and dirt flew around him.

The Bunker was gone. He looked across the field. Merican soldiers were rushing towards the smoking city. They had to join them. "Corrin, Johnson, get back!" Someone screamed. Corrin stopped in his tracks. The large form of his companion rubbed against him. He looked up. A huge, black pod was sailing slowly towards the ground ahead of him. He had no time to move.

There was a blast. The two figures were thrown backwards. All went black.


	3. Chapter 3: Gods Among Men

Corrin blinked. "He's coming around!" Someone said happily. He looked around. He lay on a small stretcher. From his surroundings, he assumed he was in the hull of an F-64 Warrior Tank. Johnson sat beside him in another stretcher. He had obviously awakened before Corrin. The tank shook.

"Boys, glad to see you up and about! Sleeping on the job?" It was Captain Mirez. Corrin shook his head, both to say no and to clear it.

"Sir, we…" Johnson replied.

"Don't apologize. Now quit talking and get out there to fight!" He made a mock frown "…unless you're too hurt?" He smiled.

"No sir!" Johnson replied. Johnson leapt up and offered his hand to Corrin. Dazedly, Corrin reached out and took it. His friend pulled him up. Captain Mirez handed them their rifles. No rest in war. The exit ramp of the Warrior opened. Corrin rushed out.

"See you on the other side," he muttered to Johnson with a grin. It was like crossing between worlds. The relative calm and quiet tank was traded for a hectic, deafening battlefield. A soldier rushed in beside Corrin, only to be cut down by a stream of bolt fire. They were in the city. Buildings exploded and turned to ruin around him.

Several Imperial Soldiers rushed from around a tower. Corrin brought his rifle to bear and loosed a round upon the line. Three fell, blood gushing from their chests. More Mericans joined him. They moved as one, a behemoth of death.

"We must flee so we can serve another day!" An Imperial bellowed.

Corrin laughed. If anything, they were pious in their faith. They could find a way to use it in any situation. "We're pushing 'um back!" He bellowed. He was proud. Maybe, just maybe, they could win the day. The radio exploded to life.

What the hell is this thing? It's tearing us apart++

We can't hurt it, we can't kill it!++

It's taking all of us! Reinforcement required!++

The group froze. Corrin looked across at Johnson with a questioning look. Johnson shrugged and pressed his radio. There was a rumble. The ground slightly shook. A massive figure began to materialize out of the smoke. "Open fire!" Captain Mirez yelled. Slug shells bounced off the huge form.

The smoke completely cleared. An enormous man stood there, undeterred by the endless stream of fire dropping from his armor, useless. His chest and arms were covered in humongous armor plates. His head was concealed with a helmet. A plume shot from the top, blood red. In his hand, he clutched a massive bolt gun, the size of the one from the trench.

The warrior raised his bolt gun. A boom shot through Corrin's ears. The man beside him exploded in a storm of blood. Corrin was soaked in liquid death. The group fell into all out panic. Corrin rushed across the street to a ruined house. Some fell to the ground, attempting to hide in the rubble, many mimicked Corrin.

Johnson patted his back as he ran past and joined Corrin behind the Hab-lock. Bolts exploded with the force of Artillery. Blood covered the ground. A man was emitting his intestines and gore gushed from his stomach. The huge monster stood with a completely blank face, firing, killing.

"Keep the stream of fire, something will kill this thing…!" Mirez screamed right before a bolt shot covered him in rubble from a towering building.

The man began to charge forward. "Go for the legs!" Corrin wailed, staring at the hard, leather plating on the knees. It was their only chance. Bullets shot through the legs and blood began to seep from small holes. The man charged on, brushing the wounds off like scratches. More death. The warrior suddenly halted in his tracks.

The bolt fire stopped. Everyone was still. The huge warrior opened his mouth. "I am the Emperor's fury. Honor him and you will be spared. Renounce him…and you will die…" The man raised the limp body of a soldier from the ground and dropped him into the sharp rubble.

Johnson looked at Corrin hopefully. Corrin smiled and nodded. Johnson walked forward and leaned around the building. "We have come to a conclusion!" He yelled mournfully at the warrior. The massive man smiled. Johnson stuck up his middle finger. A look of pure hatred shot across the man's face.

Corrin mouthed a warning, but no words came out. The man's bolt gun swung upwards. The wall in front of Johnson exploded. His tangled form flew several feet backwards and onto the rocks below.

Corrin felt fury burning inside him. He turned to the medic beside him and gave him an angry gaze. The medic nodded and rushed to Johnson's side. Corrin's breathing increased in pace and size. He gripped his slug rifle harder. "Then you will feel his fury like your friend!" The man roared to the group. "For the Emperor!"

"Frak the Emperor!" Corrin screamed. His face was red in anger. He shot from behind the building and bolted across the field. Bolts flew around him, barely missing. He lunged out of the way of one and reset his direction immediately.

He was almost upon the man. The man raised his arms, ready to strike. Corrin was angry, he wasn't stupid. The arms whisked downwards. Corrin dove to the right while grabbing a fragmentation grenade. He hurled the tiny ball towards the massive being. There was a roar and flames engulfed the figure. Smoke rose around him.

Corrin landed on the hard pavement. The smog cleared. The man was kneeled on the ground. He looked up slowly. His helmet was cracked, revealing a blue eye. Blood streamed from his temple across his face. He sat there for a moment, then simply rolled into the rubble.

Corrin stood and looked around the street. About four men remained, counting himself and the medic. He coughed as blood dripped from his mouth. He would live. He had to see Johnson.

The medic stood over Johnson. Corrin jogged over to the two, a look of worry on his face. He sighed happily. Johnson's chest was moving slowly up and down. He looked across his friend's face. He moved his head back in confusion. The medic looked up and nodded understandingly.

Johnson's mouth lay wide open. His eyes were a murky, white color. "He's in shock." The medic stated flatly, breaking the silence. "The eyes, I don't know. Probably a side effect. He's got an exit wound right below his heart."

Corrin frowned. "Don't worry, he'll live." The medic smiled. "He won't be able to get back into combat for a while though." Corrin nodded and turned away. He couldn't speak. This was war. War was hell.


	4. Chapter 4

Night had fallen. They had received a radio transmission from the opposing commander, some believed it was the Emperor himself, asking for a cease fire in the night for the sakes of all of the troops. Maybe the man did have some sanity.

The hospital was the most crowded tent in the camp. It was equally disturbing. Coughs and groans echoed throughout the room. Blood and bodily fluids covered the ground. But Corrin could not focus on them. He sat intently by the side of one bed: The bed of his best friend.

"Corrin. You need sleep. You've been here since the cease fire…" Medic Jonas called out from across the room.

"And I will be here until the end." Corrin replied dismissively. Jonas was right. He needed sleep. But he wouldn't leave his endangered friend.

There had been no movement in Johnson aside from the methodical breathing and occasional groans. Those were what worried Corrin. And the eyes. The eyes retained the same milky complexion as they had on the battlefield. They would loll into his head from time to time in a frightening manner.

Corrin closed his eyes sadly as the loud speaker clicked on.

Corrin Grant. You are required in Command immediately++

Corrin laid his hand on Johnson's chest. "I'll be back Johno." He could have sworn a small smile flashed on the unconscious man's face.

Corrin stood. He knew what this was. He would hate every second of it. He was learned in all the languages of the world, including the foul language of the Imperials. The generals used this to their advantage. He was constantly called to interrogate prisoners. He had seen worse than any man in his company in those interrogation tents. When he returned from service, he knew he would never be the same.

He brushed the tent hatch out of the way and breathed in the fresh air of the city. It was time again.

Corrin stalked into the command tent, a sour look on his face. "Ah, you've arrived." The general said with a smile. "We have medic Calth to keep you company today."

Corrin looked up. Medic Calth stood in the corner of the room, a look of fear on his face. A large table full of dangerous looking needles sat beside him.

He examined the tent. It was comfortable. A bed stood against the wall. Several desks were littered across the room along with makeshift water pumps and illuminators. The centre of the room had obviously been cleared. Something sat there, however, completely covered by a deep, black sheet.

The General's face turned all business. "I'm not screwing around now. We have a prisoner. You know this campaign isn't going well. We have to get answers about how to win this!"

Corrin nodded. The General placed a helmet on his head from the desk beside him. "I'll be wearing this." But the words hadn't come from the helmet, they'd come from a small object in the governor's hand. "And you, this." He handed Corrin the object. "In your ear."

Corrin complied by placing it in his ear lobe. "I will be asking the questions through there and you translate them. I can't have him thinking we know nothing." The General finished. He stepped beside the covered figure and tore the sheet from it.

A man sat there. The chair, worn and battered, was without a solid seat. His arms were pulled back in an uncomfortable manner and tied around the crumbling chair back. His face was white in fear. "What are you doing to me?" He squealed in Imperial tongue.

"We need answers." Corrin replied. He pressed his ear. "What are these greater soldiers you utilize?"

"They call them the Marines. They will defeat you. They know no fear." The man responded in defiant Imperial. Corrin relayed it to the General.

"I want an answer. We have punishment waiting for you if you do not comply." Corrin nodded to Calth, who stepped forward and showed the Imperial one of the needles filed with a horrifying green liquid. Corrin hated every word he was saying. Yet, he still felt spite for all the Imperials…the ones that had almost killed Johnson.

"There is no further information to give. They are unstoppable to you buffoons!" The Imperial replied bravely. Corrin stared at him.

"Where is your Emperor?" He said quietly.

"Why? Why would you want to find Him? He would strike you and all your kind down with a vengeance." The Imperial spat.

"Because I want to rip his throat out. I will cut into his heart. I will bathe him in his own blood." The Imperial looked in terror.

"This is no interrogation! Who are you to insult His name? You are nothing. Nothing!" The Imperial bellowed. Seeing Corrin take no action, the general pointed at Calth.

The young medic stepped forward. His eyes looked on in horror at the needle he held in his own hand.

"You will not stop the Emperor. His will be done!" The prisoner began to thrash around in the chair. Calth moved the needle closer and closer.

"Stop! You will only receive more pain!" Corrin said angrily. The Prisoner thrashed more violently. Calth withdrew for a moment. Then, as if finally breaking a moral boundary, he plunged the needle into the man's neck.

"Stop moving! You'll kill yourseld!" Corrin said urgently. The man rocked about in the chair. Calth looked away as the needle pressed deeper into the man's skin. The liquid began to see from the container quickly. There was a snap. The needle cracked from the bottle and slid deep into the neck. The Imperial's head rolled to the side. His eyes went blank. His breathing had stopped.

The three Mericans stood over the warm body. All felt darkness cloud their hearts. For a moment, there was silence. The loud speaker exploded to life.

Warning, Warning, dangerous personnel in camp facility++ the message repeated over and over. Corrin could only think of one thing. Johnson.

The Hospital was a mess. Several medics lay dead on the floor and many patients had passed where they lay. All murdered. There was a sob from behind one of the beds. Corrin hurried over. Medic Jonas sat crouched over the body of another medic. His body was still warm. He had just died.

Jonas looked up. "Corrin…Corrin, it's Johnson…he…"

"Which way." Corrin replied flatly. Jonas pointed immediately out the closest hatch. Corrin sped out the fabric flap and onto the pavement outside.

Two soldiers lay dead on the ground. Blood trailed across the road towards the camp boundaries. Corrin rocketed along the path of death, past confused and mourning soldiers, and across the road.

A shadowy figure limped ahead, barely outlined by the light of a strobe. "Johnson?" Corrin called out hopefully. The figure stopped and turned. Corrin walked forward. "Johno, where're you going?"

Johnson's face was revealed as Corrin approached. His eyes burned with a fire of inspiration. His face seemed younger than it had been earlier that day, like he was a new man. But he was still Johnson.

"Corrin, I saw Him!" Johnson said joyfully. "He came to me, I saw Him!"

"Who?" Corrin asked. He feared he knew what the response would be.

"The Emperor! I saw him." Johnson tilted his head. He looked utterly terrifying with a joyous smile and blank eyes. Something had come over him. "We talked. He told me of what he was going to do. It's Manifest Destiny that he rules the Earth!"

"Johno, one of his men almost killed you today." Corrin said, surprised by Johnson's sudden betrayal of Merica itself.

"No, Corrin, he saved me…" Johnson became lost in thought, the evil smile on his face only growing larger. "Come with me! We can join Him together!"

"Hell no Johno. You're insane. Serve your country. You're Merican, remember?" The smile vanished from Johnson's face.

"You are the insane one. You think you can stand to the might of the Emperor?" This wasn't Johnson, Corrin thought. It didn't matter, what ever the thing was that used Johnson's body as a shell was now pointing a slug rifle at his heart.

"If you do not believe, you do not deserve life…"

Corrin gripped his slug rifle and slowly began to bring it up. It was a duel. Whoever struck first…would live. There was a flash. Corrin had shit his eyes. They quickly blinked open. There was no pain.

Johnson fell to the ground before him. Something fell onto his boot. He looked down. Wetness began to spread across his boot's leather. Teas gathered around his eyes. He lunged forward and fell on Johnson's cold body, drenching his hair in tears.

"No! No! No! Damn it! Why?" He screamed, to no one in particular. Soldiers from the camp had heard the noise and were gathering around him. "The Emperor…" Corrin muttered. "Will Pay!" He roared.


	5. Chapter 5

The alarms were ringing, louder, faster. Why had they not stopped? Corrin turned to look at the confused soldier's around him, his face still damp with tears. "What's going on?" One asked. As if in answer, the Loud Speakers boomed with the voice of the General.

Men, to arms at the southern border! This Bastard thinks he can take us off guard!++

Corrin's mouth dropped. The Emperor had launched an attack! "Why the lying…" But he was cut off. Sergeant Patterson fell to the floor, blood gushing from his leg.

"They've Infiltrated the camp!" Someone yelled. Corrin stood immediately. He left the limp body of Johnson, or whoever it was, on the floor. More las fire erupted from behind the tents.

"Don't flee! No retreat!" Corrin roared with a charisma he had not known in himself. His slug rifle spat forth explosive death. The light fabric of the tents was torn apart. Several agonized moans came from the hidden Imperials. "Charge, while they are down!"

The soldiers followed him. The Earth shook with their steps. They bounded into the camp. Corrin loosed several rounds on an Imperial line before crouching behind a sandbag wall. Las fire flashed overhead, lighting the night sky. He heard movement on the other side of the wall. In a single bound, he flung himself over the sand bags and drove his foot into the face of an Imperial.

"What the…" The other Imperial let his sentence trail off as Corrin grappled his arms and threw him to the ground. He squeezed the trigger and let several slugs fly into the injured man's chest. There were less Mericans beside him now. The fight was not going well. He heard Imperial glory cries echoing from across the camp.

"Don't falter! These lunatics think they can fight us back? Well, can they?" Corrin bellowed.

A resounding, militaristic "no!" shot up from the mouths of the soldiers. Corrin charged across the tent-dotted landscape, yelling encouragement as he ran. He skid to a halt and fired several shots on an Imperial sniper. He took a short step forward.

It all happened so fast. A fist flew out of nowhere and connected with his skull. He fell to the floor. A laughing Imperial stood over him. "Take this one to base." Someone else said, disgusted. All was black.

He was being carried. His arms were strained to the point of breaking. He felt two huge hands holding him up by the forearm. His eyes slid slowly open.

"Not a word, Merican." Someone said spitefully from beside him. He turned his head from side to side. His carriers were Marines, large ones at that. Their armor was heavier, and lushly embroidered. Their legs had huge plating, unlike the one he had fought in the city. They could have been the Emperors honor guard from the looks. Large lightning bolt emblems shot across their chests.

They were no longer in the camp, or at least that was how it seemed. Imperials patrolled about everywhere. Gun turrets of unknown technology pivoted and stared malevolently at all passers. Flags bearing that same lightning bolt emblem covered the walls of most of the buildings.

They swung him around the corner of a building. His arms were pulled further apart. Corrin let out a painful grunt. He caught a quick glance of the scene before him before he was thrown harshly into the dirt. He groaned in agony as the Marines lay their knees on his back and tied his legs and arms.

The stood, looking down on him. "Look up, inconsiderate cretin." Corrin complied slowly. Other prisoners sat around him, none of which he knew. Just ahead, a regal looking man sat atop a blackened throne. He was smiling down on his captives.

"Are you…"Corrin started, a look of hatred on his face.

"You speak when spoken too!" One of the Marines roared as he drove his leathered foot into Corrin's face. He felt a snap. The Marine had fractured his jaw.

The man on the throne raised his hand and looked on kindly at Corrin. "No, I cannot pretend to be of His magnificence." He looked around and raised his arms. "You are all sons of the Emperor, and he will accept you…if you accept him." There was utter silence. The man's smile sank. "You have one more chance. Redeem yourself or live a lifetime of torture. Which will it be?" Several men nodded and mumbled.

The evil smile reemerged on the Imperial's face. "Good, follow their example and you will all be fine!"

"Fools! Don't listen to him. He is only going to send you to die as an expendable asset!"

"What is this? You, would be perfect in the ranks of the Imperial believers." He pointed at Corrin happily. "You could be a perfect soldier of faith…"

"No." Corrin spat. The Imperial looked at him, humoring himself by keeping the smile.

"But why not? It is the only option that…"

"The Emperor will die! He will not survive my fury! No matter what you do to me, I will find him!" Corrin bellowed. He carried on his rant as the Imperial signaled the Marines.

Corrin felt himself being picked up again. His head was still turned to the Imperial on the throne. He felt himself being thrown forward. He spun his head around, only to see the wall closing on him, fast.


	6. Chapter 6

Corrin awakened. His back ached horribly. He looked around. Prison. The walls and floor were a deep grey. There was a large opening ahead of him. The space in the opening shimmered slightly. It was a force field. He was trapped. "Panpacific?" and oddly mechanical voice asked. Corrin jumped and crawled backwards.

There was a bench in the back of the cell, made of the same concrete that covered the walls and the floor. A man, clouded by the lack of light, sat there. "Who are you?" Corrin asked frantically as he stood and backed up against the wall. "Are you here to torture me? Because I won't turn to your…"

"Calm down Earthling!" Corrin had a sudden realization. The man was a Martian. The adept stood and walked towards him, his hands outstretched in peace. "I'm not here to torture you, but you should expect someone soon. I'm your cell mate." Corrin looked at him suspiciously. "Aphorax Grange." The man held out his hand to shake.

Corrin slowly took it. "Corrin Grant. Merican."

Grange laughed. "Damn, can't even get it right anymore!" The Martian smiled. "You are the luckiest prisoner in this camp!"

"Camp?" Corrin asked quizzically.

"Oh yes, they are all over Imperial territory. The call them 'correction camps.' This is where they take men who completely renounce the Emperor and claim to despise him. I share a mutual feeling with all those in this camp, including you." Grange grinned. "We all want to kill the old man. Anyway, you are the luckiest man in the prison."

"How so?"

"Because you're in with me!" The man threw up his arms, as though it was obvious. "I am the angel of freedom, or that's what they call me around here. Whenever we get a new shipment of prisoners," He smiled and lifted what should have been his arm. Instead, a mechanical hand formed slowly into a drill.

"I get as many out as possible before getting back here. These Imperials haven't wised up yet, and being my cell mate is an automatic release…" Grange smiled slyly. "…If you help me."

Corrin had forgotten time itself. It was pitch black outside. The illuminators had been switched off for the night. The only light came from the sparks erupting from Grange's silent drill. There was a crack. "We're out…" The Martian whispered. Corrin nodded. Grange disappeared through a small hole. With a grunt, Corrin crawled in and followed.

The sharp, cold rocks of the tunnel pierced his skin. He brushed them off. This mission was important. He had fought Martians. He hated Martians for what they did to his friends and allies, but this man was fighting for a noble cause; risking his own life, or at least considerable pain, to rescue others.

He fell lightly from the hole and stood. Grange was holding a large data slate. "It's the map of the camp." He responded quietly to Corrin's questioning looks. "We need to work together. This escape has to be all in the time frame of seconds."

Corrin nodded. "Alright, I'll work on getting the gates open and telling everyone what to do, and you cut the power." Grange continued, pointing at a small building on the map with an electric bolt symbol over it. "Here, take this radio. We can coordinate our moves. Tell me when you're in, I'll tell you when to cut it."

"What happens after I cut it?" Corrin asked.

"We run like hell, so long as I get the gate open. It's always an adrenaline rush. They try as hard as they can to stop us, but they're Imperial." Grange laughed.

"Alright, I'm ready."

"Then get going! Let's do this!" Corrin smiled. They both nodded and rushed off in opposite directions.

The camp was eerily silent. Terrified prisoners occasionally gasped as he rushed by. They could only guess at what was going on.

Corrin had set a good pace. He stopped and glanced at the map. He was on row D25. So many prisoners. There were footsteps behind him. He stopped breathing. An Imperial stood there.

"Identify yourself!" He yelled in Imperial. It was a test.

Corrin smiled. "Johnson Rigby."

"New here?" The man said. His face eased. He seemed to be satisfied. Not many men on the Earth knew the Imperial tongue who did not worship that vile man.

"Yeah." Corrin replied.

"I think you have the wrong patrol route, this is mine." The man said kindly. "Don't worry. If you're new I can help you. Is that a map?" He asked. Corrin nodded. The man chuckled and walked over. He pointed at their location. "We're here and…"

Corrin threw his fist into the man's back. The Imperial buckled and fell to the floor. Corrin kicked him over and stepped down on his face. No one would patrol this area until daybreak. And then they would all be gone.

Corrin looked up. The small electrical building sat several cells away. He heard muffled cheers from the shielded chambers of some prisoners. He smiled and continued on.

He walked quietly to the door and rapped on it twice. He swung to the side and became one with the wall. The door slid open and a man exited. He looked around. Corrin wheeled around and thrust his hands around the man's chest. He squeezed hard. The man let out the last of his air. Corrin covered his mouth and held him for several seconds before throwing him to the ground.

"Delarian?" Someone asked worriedly. "Who is it?"

Corrin took a small laser pistol from the man's cold body. He kicked the door. "Delarian? What the Hell is going on?" A man emerged from the door way, only to walk into the barrel of Corrin's gun.

There was a silent click and the man fell dead. Corrin pressed his radio. "I'm in."

The radio came to life with Grange's voice.

Okay, there is a large, black lever.++ Corrin walked inside and examined a massive control panel. He spotted the lever and grabbed hold of it.

Pull++

Corrin tugged hard. It flung backwards. There was a flicker, and then all Hell broke loose. There were cries of joy as the power died. Alarms rang off of emergency frequencies. Crashes and bangs echoed throughout the camp. The loud speak boomed.

All prisoners, this is inmate Grange! We are in control! The gates are opening, get out of here!++

There were enormous cheers. Corrin rushed out. The Imperials were fast. Thunderbirds began landing in the prison rows, but there were so many escapees. He examined the battleground. Imperial soldiers were stretched thin fighting back murderous inmates.

You need to get out++ Grange called through the radio.

"They know it's you, Grange. You're coming too!" The answer buzzed through, but Corrin ignored it. His eyes were fixated on a man that had just emerged from one of the Thunderbirds. The man turned. Their eyes met. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Corrin's mouth fell open. It was impossible!


	7. Chapter 7

"Johno…" Corrin whispered, tears beginning to from once again. The sullen form of Johnson stood before him. His eyes were set, showing no emotion. He raised a bolt gun.

"Die, non-believer!" He roared in a voice not his own. Corrin dove to the side. Bolts exploded all around him. He had to get out of there, He wouldn't hurt Johnson again, though how he had survived their last encounter he didn't know.

The gates of the camp were just around this cell block. He had to get there. He broke into a dead sprint. He heard bolt fire following in his tracks. The bolts were closing. Fragments of earth dug into his foot. He couldn't run anymore. He wheeled around. The bolts stopped.

Johnson stalked slowly forward. His eyes were formed into slits. His opened slightly in an insane manner. Corrin wouldn't flee anymore. Johnson slowly raised the gun once more. "It's come to this, friend?" Corrin asked solemnly. Johnson breathed in and out harshly, his expression never changing.

"Corrin, what the Hell are you doing?" Someone yelled. He felt a large form push him aside. There were two blasts; one from Johnson, the other from beside Corrin. The bolt flew right where he had been seconds earlier. Someone had saved him.

Johnson roared in pain and clutched his knee as a bolt immobilized him. Corrin looked at his savior. It was Grange. "We've got to go!" The Martian uttered urgently. He took Corrin's arm and dragged him away.

Corrin threw one last worried glance at his friend. Johnson lay on the ground, looking up at the two fleeing men. Pure hatred was drawn across his face. "Stop struggling Corrin!" Grange sighed. He turned. The Adept was dragging him closer and closer to a Thunderbird.

"Halt prisoners!" An Imperial inside said defiantly. Grange promptly shot him down. Several others flooded into the vehicle after them. Grange walked to the cockpit and signaled Corrin to follow him.

The cockpit was clean and precise. Imperial technology was certainly their pinnacle. Grange took his place in the captain's chair. "Sit." He said flatly. Corrin did so. The Thunderbird hovered several inches from the ground and span around. Corrin jumped. Johnson stood just outside, his white eyes staring straight into Corrin's.

"Take off, now!" Corrin said fearfully. Grange slammed his fist onto a button and pulled back on a lever. The ship rose and began to soar across the sky.

Shots from below panged off of the hull. The Thunderbird shook. The so called 'vox caster' buzzed.

We know you can hear this. Prisoners, you are being trailed by two Thunderhawk Gunships. They are prepared to shoot you down if you do not land immediately and return to your cells++

Grange pressed a small black button, which subsequently became a glowing red. "Frak you!" He bellowed. The red light evaporated. "Never should an Imperial bastard underestimate an Adept of Mars!" He said proudly, more to himself than to Corrin. Two missiles screamed towards the ship. It lurched upwards and fell back.

Corrin watched in awe as Grange maneuvered behind the two gunships.

Damn it sir, they're behind us!++

Two huge beams of red death spat from the las-cannons on the head of the ship. A huge explosion filled the view hatch of the Thunderbird. Corrin smiled. "Good work!"

Grange nodded. The clouds engulfed them. They were free.

Grange pressed several buttons and took his hands from the controls. "He was your friend?" Corrin half nodded as he thought of Johnson.

"I don't understand…he…" Grange held up his hand.

"The Emperor, to his followers, is a perfect man. As all others know, no one is perfect. He is not any exception. He has the same dark intentions and evil thoughts as all of us." Grange sighed. "In your studies of the Imperial Army, have you ever heard the name…Riktus?"

Corrin nodded. "He is the Emperor's most trusted psyker, other than that little is know besides that he is feared throughout the Eastern World."

"Right," Grange continued. "He is sometimes referred to as the 'Dark Controller.' He is a perfect example of the darker side of the Emperor." Corrin tilted his head. "Before invading an Empire, the Emperor calls upon Riktus. He lets out a stream of horrific power into his troops." Grange gritted his teeth. "With a single wound, some enemies become mindless servants of the Emperor. He gives the men of the Imperial Army a charisma that drives men to insanity. He controls their minds."

"They call them the Treacherous Souls. They march the battlefields with the Army until the campaign is over, keeping the armor and embroidery of the enemy in order to inspire fear and loss of faith." Grange shut his eyes. "Then, after the campaign ends, they kill them…all of them."

Corrin sat bolt upright in his chair. "How can they be freed?"

"No one ever has. They say the only way...is to kill Riktus himself."


	8. Chapter 8

Corrin's mind bore heavy burdens. He had to save his friend. If not, he would serve for a time for the purpose of destroying everything he had fought for for so long only to be killed in a mass genocide. The only way to save him would be to kill one of the most dreaded men in the world: Riktus the Dark Controller.

"By the Omnissiah…" Grange muttered in despair. Corrin looked up. They were flying high above a city. He gazed out of the exit hatch. It was Capar. Imperial thunderbolt emblems covered the buildings. Tanks and soldiers marched the streets. The cheers and cries of joy dragged all the way from the ground into Corrin's ears. The fight had been lost.

The Emperor, that cheating bastard, had launched an attack during his own cease fire. Corrin was sure dozens were killed in the immediate onslaught, unarmed. Hundreds more must have died in the battle. He had been captured. His stomach wound into a knot. He had done nothing.

The red light beside the vox buzzed again.

Unidentified Thunderbird, identify and give clearance++

"Damn…" Grange whispered. A man leaned into the cockpit.

"What was that? We heard voices." Corrin looked away. The man was a boy, looking only of sixteen.

"Stay back in holding." Corrin said, shaken by the young age of the boy. He nodded and disappeared.

Unidentified…++

Grange tapped the red button angrily. "We're here!" He said impatiently.

Give identification++

Grange turned to him. "What now?" He said desperately. Corrin shook his head and closed his eyes.

Respond++

The two men sat still for a moment. Corrin then spun on the spot. "Everyone get safety latches on, now!" The ship lurched to the side. A bang echoed through his ears. More small blasts shook the hull. "What just happened?" Corrin asked worriedly.

Grange's eyes were running quickly across a screen. "They hit our engine! Not direct, but well be down in…" The ship flipped over. Wind shot over Corrin's face. The illuminators died, replaced by red klaxons. Smoke drifted slowly into the cockpit. Corrin began top cough. His bloodshot eyes fixed on the view hatch.

The Thunderbird was rocketing towards the surface. There was a terrible crash. Corrin tightened his eyes. He felt pain, but not death. He looked to the side. Grange sat there, his eyes wide in fear. He turned to Corrin. They stared at each other for a moment.

The emergency hatch above them swung suddenly open. "Out." Someone said flatly. They looked up. A dark man held his hand down to them. "Now." Grange went first. He was pulled up smoothly.

The hand returned and Corrin grasped it. He kicked himself up off of the sparkling panel. He clambered over the wreckage of the Thunderbird and looked to the man. He caught a slight glimpse of his face, scarred and dirty, before he turned. "Run, this thing's about to blow!" He roared. The two companions took no pause. The barreled off in the footsteps of the man.

There was a blast originating behind them. Heat prickled the hairs on Corrin's back. They rushed on into the woods beyond. Corrin turned his head. The city was disappearing in the horizon. Several tiny, black figures had emerged on the horizon. They were coming to find what was in the Thunderbird. They would find nothing. He turned back to see the man had stopped.

Grange turned to him questioningly. Corrin shrugged. He looked on.

The man was dressed in full Merican Marine garb. His face was painted a dark green and his eyes were burning with suspicion. "Who are you?" Corrin asked quickly.

"I ask the questions." The man responded. "Who are _you_?"

"Corrin Grant, Merican 6th Company. Also known as 6514." Corrin replied. "And this is…"

"Aphorax Grange, adept of Mars." Grange finished.

"Grant…you fought in the battle?" The man asked. Corrin nodded. The man held out his hand. Corrin shook it. "Jasper Reith, Merican Marines 13th. We were dispatched with you boys to help secure the city. You are a lucky survivor." Other men began to emerge from the foliage of the forest, their faces covered with a mix of curiosity and anger. All wore the garb of the Merican Army.

A smile shot across Corrin's face at the sight of one. "Jonas!" It was medic Jonas.

"Corrin!" Jonas grinned. "Nice to see a familiar face!" Corrin and Grange turned back to Jasper.

"We have been living in the woods, conducting a Guerilla War for a week now." Jasper continued. Corrin gasped. A week!

"What news of the campaign?" Corrin asked, eager for information.

"They have created a net around Capitalis." Corrin lowered his head. Capitalis was the region of defenses surrounding the Capital. It was only a matter of time. "Mason City has fallen under siege by the Emperor's forces." Jasper breathed. "Tacticians predict that, without a major change, Merica will fall in days."

Corrin looked at Grange. "We have to get out of here and get to Mason City. If we can stop the Treacherous Souls, we could change the war!" Grange nodded.

Jasper looked intently at them. "Stop the Treacherous ones? How?"

"We're going to kill Riktus." The group looked at the oddly. Jasper turned to them.

"Look boys," The group stood at attention. "If our country is going to fall in a matter of days, any idea is a good one. All we are doing here is stabbing a needle in the Imperial foot, and a small one at that." He turned back to Corrin and Grange. "We'll help you." The group began discussing. Grange grabbed his leg and grunted.

Corrin looked at him. "Wounded?" Grange nodded.

"Your friend gave me a nice shot to the leg…"

Jonas stepped forward. "I can help." Grange smiled and followed the man over to the group.

Jasper approached Corrin. "Look, you realize the chances…"

"I do." Corrin said simply. "My best friend has been taken, and I _will_ free him." Jasper nodded. Corrin watched as Jonas drove a small needle into Grange's leg.

Seconds later, the tree beside Jasper exploded into dozens of tiny shards. "We're under attack!" Someone roared. Corrin looked towards the origination of the bullet. The sight forced his eyes away. "God's will…"


	9. Chapter 9

Corrin shot several rounds into the oncoming group. His eyes were wide in surprise. Captain Mirez, his captain, ran at the head of the group. The General followed close behind. Corrin looked into their eyes, white and empty. They were all Treacherous Souls.

Mirez fell before him only to stand again. "We've gotta get the Frak out of here!" Jasper bellowed from over the gun fire. More Treacherous ones streamed in from the forest. Corrin nodded and cries of agreement rang out from the other guerillas.

The group rushed into the forest immediately. Corrin stood alone, still firing at his old friends. "Corrin…leave them." It was Grange. Corrin turned to face him, his eyes shot with pain. Eventually, he gave in and, dodging an oncoming bolt, he rushed after the rest.

There were so many. The Treacherous Souls poured from everywhere, all Mericans, all doomed to die. Corrin drew his knife and stabbed deep into the frontal lobe of one of the blank eyed men. He kicked the limp body over and sped on.

They were surrounded. Corrin grasped his las-pistol in both hands and fired a constant stream of explosive light into the enemies. He felt the hope drain more and more with the las-gun's recoil. Grange stood beside him, his arm formed into a massive, blue cannon. One of the Treacherous ones was torn apart by a single blast from the enormous gun.

Slowly, the power on the cannon died. He heard Grange curse and revert to a bolt gun. It was the eerie silence that truly inspired fear from the Treacherous Souls. All the faces, known and friendly, now silent and ready to kill. The entirety of 6th Company must have been herded and turned into monsters.

There was a huge burst of light. One of the guerillas fell flat. A man emerged from above the horde of soulless warriors. His feet were dangling high in the air. His hands crackled with lightening. His eyes burned with a mysterious electricity. He was a psyker.

Corrin had heard of them, in myth and in fear, but he had never seen one. They were hated throughout the world for their taint and their evil. Only the Emperor had accepted them. No wonder he was considered a lunatic. The man moved his head slowly down to the fighting group. His eyes caught Corrin's.

Corrin noticed a small pendant hanging from the psyker's neck: three eyes, bound by a triangle. Something in Corrin's heart told him the sign was of evil origin. The man brought his hand down. Corrin did not think. A burning bolt of lightning leapt from the freak's palm.

Corrin barely moved out of the way. An explosion of dirt and mud hit him. The ground, began to sizzle. The Treacherous Ones had not stopped. They marched forwards into the small group. It was only a matter of time. But Corrin had to worry about the Psyker, his hands spitting burning death at amazing speed.

Corrin raised his las-pistol and fired. The psyker fell from the air, wailing in inhuman pain as he clutched his leg. His head lolled to the ground oddly. Corrin stood over him, firing laser beams in all directions, but focusing on the man below him.

The psyker lifted his head. His eyes were completely gone. Instead, the crackle of lightning shimmered through them.

He raised his hands up. Corrin pointed his pistol down at the man's head. It was too late. He was thrown to the ground by an enormous blast. He looked from his immobilized position as a massive bolt of death erupted from the man's head with a bang. "Damn it!" Grange yelled. "The lunatic is going to set the forest on fire!"

He was right. Smoke drifted into Corrin's eyes. He shut them tightly. He felt heat crawling up his spine. "Oh my god!" A guerilla exclaimed. The woods around had burst into an all out inferno. Corrin picked up his stranded las-pistol and fired into the Psykers forehead. The man keeled over, dead. His eyes had burned out. Corrin need not have shot him. He had put his last living energy into that spell.

The Treacherous Souls were undeterred by the flames exploding to life around them. They closed in closer and closer. Corrin heard the roar of an engine. He wheeled around. A Warrior tank burst from the burning trees.

The exit hatch burst open. A dark figure emerged, obviously garbed in Merican uniform. "Get the Frak in!" They did not hesitate.

The door closed quickly behind them and the engine chugged to life once more. "Sit down," the man said. His face was bright with happiness. His red hair hung loosely around his large head.

Jasper looked at him. "Captain?"

The man looked back. "Jasper!" He said, overjoyed. "Alright boys. We got a distress call on a short range frequency and decided to check it out. Though how you got a signal, I can't imagine."

Jasper looked at him again, this time quizzically. "We don't have a short range radio…" Grange smiled.

"The Earthling can never underestimate an Adept of Mars!" The Martian said ecstatically. Corrin laughed. No one else did.

"Anyway, we are taking you to Camp Quebec. We spotted some old ruins from around the second millennium and set up base there. They won't be able to find us. We'll be safe for a while, and then we can return to the Capitalis Defenses."

The men looked at him worriedly. "Don't fret, we'll be safe!"


	10. Chapter 10

The sky was darkening. Corrin sighed as he sat on the exit ramp of the Warrior. He was a soldier in the final days of his nation. He was fighting more for survival than honor, but most of all he was fighting for a friend. His life was war. War was hell.

Several Thunderbirds flew over head, a stream of white liquid bursting forth from their hatches. Corrin looked in confusion. As the white material approached the ground, he realized it wasn't liquid, it was paper. Thousands upon thousands of tiny leaflets showing the Imperial Lightning bolt emblem and proclaiming the truth of the Emperor. Along with it came the news. Black and white print newspapers fluttered across the air.

He grabbed for one. The headlines read: "Emperor Moves into Jerminy" he read on.

_by__ George __Bluntt_

_The proclaimed "Emperor of Mankind" moved from his lightning campaign in Merica today to begin the invasion of Jerminy. Allies from Albania have come to his aid and are __besieging__Jermin__ lines from behind. __The…_

One word near the bottom caught his eye.

_Riktus, the so called "Dark Controller" has been s__et as high commander of the Merican Crusade__ in the Emperor's leave. Many battlefield philosophers…_

He threw the paper down. Riktus was at the head of the Imperial Army. Corrin would kill him, no matter where he stood. Corrin would free his friend.

Grange walked to him. "I just read it." He said, disgusted. "This could be a problem for killing our good friend…" Corrin nodded solemnly. There were a series of angry yells from one of the tents in the camp. The ruined city was beautiful. The Captain, whom said his name was Ferius, said that they were on the border of Canadia and the Amerin area.

The angry noises grew louder. The tent hatch burst open. "Who the Frak has a radio?" It was Ferius. He looked furious. The men gathered in around the Warrior Tank all shook their heads and looked at each other. Even Grange shrugged. "We just caught a vox frequency…someone is working for the enemy." He looked around suspiciously. "They called the Frakking Imperials on us!"

There was a great whoosh of sound. Everyone threw their heads to the sky. Two massive craft soared high above, almost tiny in the distance. Something began descending from the behemoths. It wasn't propaganda slips. "Scatter!" Jasper screamed over the blast of the great planes. Corrin rushed off, followed quickly by Grange, into the woods beyond. The snow began to melt quickly. The black pods from the ships came closer and closer.

The icy ground turned into a plain of heat. Bomb shells exploded across the town, tearing apart the ground and reducing old buildings to rubble. Imperial soldiers emerged from nowhere, charging straight into the hell-storm.

Grange spun around and fired at the oncoming soldiers. His bolt-gun cut three down and moved to a forth. Corrin turned. "Grange, dive right now!" They shot to the right and fell behind a small house. A rocket fired past them "Now…" Corrin smiled. "We're even." Grange laughed.

Corrin crouched at the side of the house. An Imperial approached. Corrin flicked out a small knife. The man's leg stuck around the edge of the house. Corrin drove the knife into his knee and toppled the man over. Quickly regaining his footing, he stepped on the Imperial's face. His las-pistol brought another two down.

Grange rolled out from the house, his Plasma Cannon emitting a powerful blue glow. The Imperial with missile launcher met eyes with the Adept for a moment. Fear shown clearly on his face. The Plasma Cannon threw released a mesh of super-hot liquid at the man. His body completely evaporated.

The house beside them exploded in a blast of concrete and straw. They fell to the floor and covered their heads. More Imperials stormed in from everywhere. Grange stood and helped Corrin up.

His head was spinning. His legs moved without his control. "Sh…Sh…k" He heard Grange faintly, as though he were far away. "Do…uo….me?" Grange looked at him worriedly "Do you he…me?" They limped on. The world was flipping up and down. He closed his eyes, begging it to stop. "Do you hear me?" Corrin nodded slightly. The white city disappeared and his vision was filled with trees.

Grange turned his head and blasted down several more Imperials. The forest shot by rapidly, forming into a smear of green and brown in Corrin's eyes.

The trees abruptly shifted to complete white. He could not discern between land and sky. He felt himself being thrown to the ground softly. "Die Imperial Bastards!" Grange yelled. A slight smile crossed Corrin's face.

He heard gun fire. Screams of pain came from the forest. Corrin slowly flipped over. He saw Grange, his hand a massive axe, eviscerate an Imperial.

The Martian turned and walked towards him. "Stay till. You're suffering from shell shock." He pressed a button on his wrist and a small pack fell from his chest. He opened it and withdrew a blue tube. He wrapped it lightly around Corrin's head.

He felt soothing heat slide into his head and down his body. "Now, you need to get rest. We can start moving in the morning. I'll start making camp. When you wake up you can…" He trailed off as Corrin's eyes snapped shut in sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

It was cold. Corrin shook his head and looked up. He had just woken. Grange sat by a small fire, warming his hands. The Adept had set up an adequate camp.

Corrin stood, shakily, and made to sit by him. Grange spun around anxiously and looked as though he had been interrupted in something. His face softened immediately and he stood. "I hate it here, Corrin. The lack of technology has some negative effect on my being." Corrin nodded in understanding, though he did not at all. Martians had always puzzled him.

"We can't stay here. We have to move." Corrin said wearily. "You got a map?" Grange pressed a button on his chest panel. A small projection appeared between them. It was a flat map of the world.

Grange lightly touched an icon in the top corner of the map. The map zoomed in to a small area. Three red heat signatures dotted the screen: Corrin, Grange, and the fire. "Mason City is several miles south of here. We can get moving now and get their by sundown." Grange said.

Corrin looked up. The sky was barely beginning to catch the light of day. He sighed and nodded in agreement. "Let's go." He said finally.

Grange threw a pile of snow over the still burning fire and they walked off. There were no landmarks, nothing but snow and sky. The two companions walked on silently. Grange threw Corrin a glance. "How did you get into this?"

Corrin shut his eyes and thought back. It was so long ago. "I was drafted during our war with the Panpacific. We, me and Johnson, were put in the same Company…6th. We fought over there for ten years and most of the company was annihilated." Corrin sighed. "Johnson was only one I knew that survived. We became brothers, in a sense. I've never been apart from him since we returned from the Panpacific." He held his hand to his head. "We were held in reserve as more and more men joined our ranks. Capar city was our first mission since we had been so badly hurt. Obviously, we failed. I lost Johnson. And now I'm here."

Grange looked at him sympathetically. "And you…" Corrin asked.

"No." Grange replied flatly. They walked on for a moment in total silence again. Grange stopped. "We were coming for peace. We only asked for…for peace." Corrin looked at him quizzically.

"They killed them; all of them…except me." Grange finished. Corrin looked away as tears began to stream down the Martian's cheeks.

"First, Fragon. He went in to herald our arrival. We could hear his screams through the sound proof walls of those chambers." Grange began to walk again, his head hung low. "Harath and Xelophius came to check on him. They were…butchered before our eyes."

Corrin to speak but Grange shook his head. "Garan and I…and all the novices…we entered. We looked at the blood splattered across the walls. And that man…that evil man. He smiled mockingly at us. His golden armor shown with gore." He raised his head. His oily face burned with fury. "We all wanted him dead. He stood there. His eyes flash and the novices….every one…caught flame. I watched in horror as he took control of Garan's mind. My late friend tore through the burning novices, catching fire himself and looping their heads from their young necks."

"He spared me. He ordered me to be incarcerated. They used me to advance their technology. I didn't put full effort in. They hurt me." Grange shivered. "I vowed from that day I would hunt every last Imperial man on this Earth and beyond. I will keep to that vow."

Corrin felt pitty for him. This man, even in the limited time they had known each other, had proven himself of steadfast loyalty and fearless conscience. Now, Corrin was almost surprised at the wetness covering his face.

The weeping continued steadily. Corrin heard a slight buzz. He turned quickly. A machine sped towards them, its hull hovering feet above the ground. "Grange…" Grange shook him off. "Grange! Imperials, damn it!" Grange seemed to snap out of a trance. He spun instantly.

The speeder approached. Corrin grabbed Grange's shoulder, restraining him. A soldier piloted the craft. His Imperial Helm was replaced with a pilots cap and goggles. "Sirs, this is Imperial Territory. All non-military personnel are to be…" He looked down to Corrin's Merican badge. "Crin scum." Corrin's face contracted in anger. Crin was the worst possible derogatory term for his kind. The Imperial lifted his las pistol. "On the floor! You too-"

The man's eyes widened. His mouth dropped. There was a charging sound. Corrin looked to Grange. His plasma cannon was pointed at the hull of the craft in point blank range. "What the Frak are you doing."

"Down." The Martian replied with a sob. There was a light flash. Corrin dropped into the freezing snow. Grange had had a reawakening. Corrin rolled over. The adept lay there, black with smoke and mud. He was breathing.

"You are a crazy…" But Corrin drained off. He was smiling. Grange stood and grinned. The tears were falling from his face.

There was a crunch from behind them. They both wheeled and aimed their guns at the noise. "Hey, don't kill me!" It was Medic Jonas. The three men smiled at once. "I heard your cannon. You're a crazy man Grange."

"Where are the others? Did they escape?" Corrin asked worriedly.

"It's a very long story. One that can be told on the way to Mason as I'm sure that's where you're headed." They nodded together. "Then let's go!"


	12. Chapter 12

Jonas leaped out of sight. "Down here!" His voice called from far below. Grange and Corrin looked at each other and stepped forward. There was a large pit below. Jonas stood at the bottom, smiling up at them. "Jump down!"

Grange went first. He landed with a grunt and crouched down. Corrin followed quickly after him. The ground was oddly soft with a layer of snowy leaves. "I've been here for hours. You're run-in with that patrolman was all that dragged me out." He sighed. "Who ever called those bombers in did it at the perfect moment. You two were lucky to escape before it started. I saw Jasper and someone else barely get into the forest before the heavy bombing really began. I may have been the only other survivor."

He looked on mournfully. "Three of us were killed in the initial bombing runs. Ferius was killed right beside me. I didn't see much. They closed in all around us…they…" He turned around and paced away. Still talking. Corrin turned quickly and pushed the man's voice away as he heard a slight grunt.

Grange stood behind him. A look of unnatural fear covered his face. He pointed shakily at the ground. Corrin looked. A portion of the snow had been moved aside, possibly by Grange. The sight made him gasp. Ferius lay there, dry blood covering his forehead. He had been shot, execution style, not killed in the explosion.

Corrin looked at Grange. He had no idea what to do. He immediately spun back. He watched Jonas turn back. He was still speaking. "So, now we are here and you are going to Mason. I can't say I will come with you." The man had them cornered. Corrin saw the medic's hand lightly placed on his pistol. He was ready.

"I will break for the…" He turned again and Corrin spun to face Grange. The Martian had something in hand. He pointed at it, then to his ear. Corrin nodded. Grange threw the small device to him. It was like to the one he had used in the interrogation. He placed it lightly in his ear.

"It was Jonas!" Granges voice said into Corrin's ear, surprised. Corrin slightly moved his head up and down. Jonas turned back. "Get him closer…"

"Jonas, come here." He thought quickly. "I found this on the battlefield." He removed his combat knife. "I think it's yours. I've got mine, and you may need it soon!"

Jonas walked forward suspiciously. He reached for the knife. There was a slight bang. Grange had fired a bolt blast for the Medic's chest. Jonas ducked out of the way nimbly and drew his pistol. "Nobody Frakking move!" He roared threateningly, though Corrin could sense his fear.

"Jonas, why?" Corrin said, disgusted.

"Because…" He smiled slightly. "The Emperor gives more by the hour."

"You sicken-!" Grange growled. He winced in pain as a las shot hit his leg, but stood his ground nevertheless.

"You shut up Martian!" Jonas bellowed. He turned shakily back to Corrin. "You fools don't understand. I chose the winning side! You don't have a chance. Master Riktus has shown me the truth." He smiled malevolently. "I am the deliverer. I am the bane of souls." Corrin looked at him in a confused manner.

"For a fool like you, the Treacherous Soul is a complex object with a complex process. I will give you the honor of hearing its hollowed form, mainly in my own pleasure." He laughed. "The spell in itself is a virus, given by wounding the victim. For the control to truly begin however, I or another deliver must act. I supply the essence of Riktus himself into the Treacherous Ones. I am the one who brings it to life. In short, I am the one who caused that filthy Frakker…" He never finished his sentence.

Corrin was upon him like a raging storm. He felt a small las bolt bounce lightly off his Flak armor. The medic would never get the laser through at this angle. He threw his fist into the traitor's face.

He relished in the felling of his pained skin. He heard a cry. "Please, no! Corrin, remember…" Corrin ignore him. He stomped on his chest and began to pound mercilessly at his head. "Stop! Please, no more…!" Corrin halted for a moment. His breathing was hard and fast.

A smile crossed the sick medic's face. "Thank you." His hand shot up, a needle enclosed in its tight fingers. Corrin grasped the thing angrily. This was what he had used on Johnson.

He pushed against Jonas' arm. The needle slowly moved towards the medic himself. "No!" Jonas screamed. Corrin felt a final burst of strength from his old friend's body, and then he finally gave in. The needle sunk deep into the treacherous man's neck.

For a moment, Jonas struggled. Then, he was still. Corrin stood. He turned around. Grange stood there. Fear still shown in his eyes. "What? Grange, are you alright?" Corrin smiled. "He's dead, it's over."

Grange shook his head and looked back at Corrin. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Corrin could tell, he wasn't. Something was wrong. That look of fear was embedded in Corrin's head. What had Grange heard or seen that could have frightened him like that?


	13. Chapter 13

They stood there, staring at the limp body of Jonas. Corrin's mind was elsewhere. Grange was keeping something from him. He knew there was no one he could trust more than the Martian. Something must have been troubling him. Something Jonas had said…but what? "Grange…" He said quietly. The Adept tilted his head to the side. "Something's wrong, I know it. We can't start keeping…"

"Corrin," He said alertly, "someone's coming." Corrin quietly grasped his las-pistol. Grange was right. The snow crunched softly at the approaching steps. They spun as one and fired. An Imperial, clothed to the toe in snow white armor, fell dead. More crunching began, faster and harder. They pivoted about. More and more Imperials converged on them in a circle.

Eventually, the two stopped firing. Twenty or so Imperials stood before them, guns trained. A man stepped forward. His sword was covered in saber-like teeth. His pistol was splattered with red paint to represent blood. His face was scarred and heavy. He slowly opened his mouth.

"Put the gun's down boys. You're going to be with us for a while." He smiled.

Grange threw a hateful glance at him. "Captain Sefron…"

"Grange! Haha, when I heard you had escaped I wasn't surprised. I raised you well!" The man laughed.

"Shut up you Imperial. You were the reason I was tortured day in and day out!"

"Only to strengthen you. I…" The Imperial stopped and looked at Grange in horror. Corrin turned to him as well. He buckled down and fell to the floor. Corrin looked into his eyes. They flashed with a terrible whiteness Corrin knew all too well.

"No!" Corrin cried, tears welling in his eyes.

"What's happening Merican? What's he doing?" The Captain yelled. Corrin was sobbing. He couldn't bare it. "Quit your weeping! What's going on?"

Grange looked up. His eyes were blank. His teeth were gritted in rage. He leaped at Corrin. Corrin moved to the side, barely avoiding the man's massive cyber-hand. The Martian slid across the ground. He convoluted.

His eyes returned to life, hating and angry. "I will not!" He roared, almost to himself. He jumped at the surprised Imperials. His hand formed into a massive blade. Blood splattered the shining sand.

"Sir! What the Frak is going on!" An Imperial squealed. They had begun to loose morale. The insane Adept halted, breathing heavily.

"Kill him, someone!" Another soldier yelled.

"Wait! Shoot him and you're dead!" The captain ordered. "There's something about him…" Grange turned back to Corrin. His hand had formed into a massive drill.

"If you do not see the true light," The color faded from his eyes once more, "You will die!" He moved at amazing speed. Corrin caught the drill by it's roots and pushed back. He felt the machine begin to push harder. "You are a fool Corrin. Why do you not see?" Grange said questioningly.

"You are not yourself Grange. Fight it! Don't let it take you!" Corrin said pleadingly. He could not let another friend slip away. Grange stumbled backwards. He crouched down and pounded the ground. The Imperials didn't think to react.

He spun on them again, and then turned back. He was in a mortal combat, with himself. "I won't give in! I can't give in!" He fell to the floor. The Imperials had lost all interest in Corrin as they all crowded Grange. "I will not!" He bellowed with such force, the snow fell from the trees. Corrin's ears echoed the enormous voice.

Grange raised his Plasma Cannon with amazing speed. Corrin dove backwards. The Imperial's weren't as fast. He watched in terror as they were incinerated on the spot. The blue flame disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Grange lay there. His eyes flashed into emptiness. He stood. He faced Corrin. He raised his bolt-gun shakily. His eyes exploded to life. He tilted his head. His was a look of pleading. "I…will…fight it!"

Before Corrin could respond, the Adept was gone, and he was alone. The forest seemed more alive than ever before. Sounds and roars echoed through his head. Scratches came from behind every bush. He had been fighting in war for three years, and for the first time he was truly and completely alone.

The forest buzzed by quickly. Corrin had decided to keep the events in Jonas' camp out of his head. He instead focused on the mission at hand. If he could kill Riktus, Johnson and Grange would be free again.

He stopped dead. He heard a whisper. The forest was silent. It came again, louder than before. It was his name. Or, that's what it sounded like. His name whisked across the leaves of the trees and through the ground. The voice was Johnson's.

Gradually, more voice joined the choir. His name resonated across the massive wood. The earth rumbled. Sweat beaded on Corrin's forehead. He was terrified. Trees fell around him. A storm of lightning and thunder rained from the sky, all echoing his name. _"Corrin, Corrin, Corrin." _

He began to run again, faster than he knew he could. The name followed him and blended with the blurred trees. It grew louder and louder. It blasted through the sky.

People began to appear, hundreds of them, all around him. Their eyes were blank, dead. They stood limp. Their faces were fixated on him. "_Corrin, Corrin, Corrin"_

He felt something under his foot. There was a bang. He fell. The crowded around his fallen form, their eyes burning on his face. _"Corrin, Corrin, Corrin."_ There was another bang. _"You will die…"_ They were gone. The sight before him was hell.

The forest had broken, revealing an open plain and a massive city. Thunderbirds and A-36's battled in the sky. The towers of the metropolis smoked. Roares and screams erupted from the city constantly. He had arrived. This was Mason.


	14. Chapter 14

Corrin crouched behind a small defensive turret, its barrel smoking in ruin. The city was a wasted rock of concrete and steel. It had obviously been bombarded for some time. Dead bodies of soldiers and citizens alike littered the ground. Though, sickly, Corrin enjoyed being back on the battlefield. He wasn't alone. He was fighting for his country again.

He covered his head as the window ahead of him blasted open. A Merican fell into the shattered glass. Corrin looked sadly for a moment, and then reached for the slug rifle lying beside the man's body. It fit snugly in his hands. He half-smiled. He was back.

An Imperial approached the window with a smug smile. It faded instantly to terror as Corrin's determined face shown to him. He brought the rifle to bear. The Imperial seemed to have no intention to move. He nodded at Corrin respectfully. Corrin nodded back and shot him down.

Some Imperials, Corrin knew, were no different than himself. Nevertheless, they were all the enemy. There was a blast as a chunk of concrete fell beside him. Snipers. He was on the battlefield again. He careened down the road, merging with other Mericans.

An Imperial looked briefly from his defenses. Corrin relished in the click of the trigger. The man fell to a precise headshot. They rushed on. Corrin quickly clambered the defensive barricade and fired down at the fearful Imperial's.

He loved the thrill of running with his comrades along the battlefield. "Frak!" Someone roared. "Everyone down!" Corrin turned to the direction of the voice. He fell to the floor as a massive building before him exploded in a flash of light.

A figure emerged from the smoking wreckage of the tower. He simply hovered above the ground like the psyker Corrin had met before Ferius had saved them. Corrin held his hands to his ears as a piercing sound shook them. _I am the Controller. Your mind is mine. _Corrin shook his head and looked around. Men lay on the pock-marked road, clutching their heads in pain.

The man emerged from the smoke. _Interesting! You choose to resist… _Corrin spat. A surge of utter fury rushed through his blood as he saw the man. His shaved head was crackling with energy. His eyes, black as the night, shone with evil. He wore a billowing cloak sporting the Thunderbolt of the Emperor. His eyes shot down to Corrin.

A terrible pain struck his head. He gritted his teeth and stepped forward. "Riktus, I am Corrin Grant, Merican 6th. You have taken my friend. I want him back." His face tightened. "Now."

The man smiled. "To think such a puny thing as yourself would even imagine challenging me!" Corrin noted he had ceased the use of his mind. Riktus lowered himself to the ground. Treacherous Ones stalked out behind him, their blank eyes fixed on him.

"You fear me, Riktus. I know, in the forest, you tried to break my morale. You tried to shatter my hope. You failed." Corrin smiled. "You fear _me_."

Riktus laughed. "This will silence you…" Time froze in Corrin's eyes. A white sparkle shot from Riktus' chest. Corrin dug his heels into the ground and cleared his mind. The thing pierced his head. He felt a shiver run through his body.

Voices rang in his head, his own voices. They urged him to do things. They urged him on. He lurched forward. The voices disappeared. Corrin laughed. "You cannot stop me Riktus. I will kill you." A hint of fear shimmered over the Controller's face.

Without a word, the Treacherous Ones began to move. Riktus floated above their heads and disappeared into the smoke once more. "Not today…" Corrin muttered. He barreled forward. Shots rang out. The blank eyed men fell to his ravenous shots.

Riktus' form moved quickly over the horde of mindless warriors. Corrin crashed head-on into the crowd. There were several grunts as he knocked some aside. A Treacherous Soul lunged for him. Corrin threw him aside and fired into his back. He threw his fist into another's face.

They surrounded him. He roared as he spun about in a circle. Dry blood covered his face. The Treacherous Ones fell, only to stand again as he shot them down. He felt fists pounding him. Inhuman roars came from their hollow mouths.

He fell to the floor. It was his nightmare made real. A bolt gun was pointed at his face. "Kill the nonbeliever…" The Treacherous One muttered. Corrin began to loose focus on reality. Light flooded his vision.

"Pacify!" Someone roared. The things stopped immediately. His eyes flashed. The Treacherous Ones scattered. A man stood over him. "Stay with me…" His eyes fluttered. Light exploded into his retinas again. "Stay with me…come one!" His eye slipped closed. It was black.

He felt something pick him up. It grunted. The sound drifted away slowly.


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing Corrin felt was pain. His head stung. His back ached terribly. His stomach felt horribly bruised. He felt warm blood flowing over his arms. His eyes slid open, then closed once more. He grunted as he opened them again. A series of beeps rang out from a small device beside him. "Oh!" Someone said. "I'm glad too see you awake!"

Corrin looked around. A man stood there, smiling. A Thunderbolt emblem shot across his shoulder. Corrin rolled to the side quickly. He stopped for a moment, confused. His slug rifle lay there, beside him, not obscured. He grabbed hold of it and turned the barrel on the Imperial.

"Hey, go easy Merican!" The man said urgently. I though maybe giving you your weapon would ease your spirits; obviously not!" He laughed.

"Who are you, Imperial? Where am I, and how do I get out?" Corrin asked, thrusting the rifle closer to the man.

"You are in my lab. I saved you. I'm not Imperial, and the exit is over there." The man replied calmly. Corrin caught only three words.

"You aren't Imperial?" Corrin gave no ground. "Why do you wear the iconography of the Emperor?"

The man sighed. "Damn, I though I removed all of these. Corrin," Corrin looked at him, shocked.

"How do you know my name?" He said. His gun lowered slightly.

"You are Corrin Grant. Riktus stole your friend and you want him back. I heard the whole speech. Besides," He laughed. "You're famous!" He smiled as Corrin stared on, oblivious. "You're wanted, dead or alive. The Imperium has sentenced you to execution without trial for sabotage, instigating revolution, the murder of many Imperial soldiers, and assassination."

Corrin smiled. The Emperor knew who he was. He knew he was coming. So did Riktus. "Anyway, Corrin, I am a defector." The man replied. "Call me Krieg. I own this lab and everything in it. It was set up by the Emperor years before we took Merica. It is here were we researched the Treacherous Soul virus."

Corrin shook his head. "Virus…?"

"I don't have any time, Corrin. I fear I've put you in grave danger. I heard of your plight. I….I had to help." Corrin looked at him seriously. Krieg continued. "They know where I am. I was a single scientist. The others are dead. I am the last one. I must pass what little of the secret I know."

"How did you save me? The things reacted to your very word!" Corrin said in awe.

"Riktus decided we needed a fail safe if the Soulless turned against us. An override, he called it. Voices of authority were recognized by the Treacherous, and they responded. You were lucky…yes." Krieg shook his head. "My voice has been removed from the database; that was my last command."

Corrin nodded in understanding. There was a bang. "Damn it! They're coming!" Krieg shrieked.

"Are there any defenses? Do we have any way out." Corrin asked coolly.

"They won't be able to break through for several minutes. The escape exit will open and give us just enough time…but we can't go yet."

Corrin turned and gave him an insane look. "Are you crazy? I can't fight off all of them, we need to go!"

"No. Corrin," He lifted a small, delicate needle from a table beside him, "this is the Alternative. I know little of it, only the top scientists knew everything. It is the only other way to kill the virus. Take it." He held the needle out to Corrin.

Corrin stretched his hand out and grasped it lightly. He gasped. This was what he needed. This was the key to saving his friends. There was a blast from above. Krieg gestured to a small, empty space on the wall. Corrin walked forward. Krieg pressed the wall harshly. A rectangular space opened before them.

Corrin turned back. A can fell from the stairs behind them. Suddenly, Imperial soldiers stormed down. "He's got someone with him!" One yelled.

"Kill them both!" Another roared. Corrin pressed down on the trigger and let out a stream of blurred death. He felt Krieg grab him on the shoulder and pull him in. The doorway collapsed before them. Darkness engulfed him.

There was a click. Tiny illuminators lit the damp hallway. Rocks and dirt clumped to form walls. "What now?" Corrin asked simply. Krieg looked around and shrugged.

"We go." He began to walk down the hall. Corrin followed quickly.

"I can take you to a military base in Mason. They can get you shipped to the City of Glory." Corrin said thoughtfully.

"Corrin, Mason fell." Krieg said sadly. Corrin stopped and shook his head. "They have begun the siege of Promethius City. The Philosophers…"

"I know what the damned Philosophers say!" Corrin bellowed. Krieg shirked away. "I'm sorry, I'm watching my country fall apart before my eyes while I sit down here in a hide-hole."

Krieg nodded. "Corrin, if you could, I know you would be up there…from what I've heard of you!"

Corrin nodded. He had to respect this man, Imperial or not. He had saved his life. He was helping. He had given Corrin just what he needed. Though he knew that once the Alternative was gone, his mission would not be finished. He had to kill Riktus.

At that moment, an image of Grange appeared in his mind, along with Johnson. He closed his eyes. What was he going to do? Why had all of this been thrust upon him? He would ponder as they walked the cavernous escape halls towards freedom. He would ponder all night.


	16. Chapter 16

Corrin nodded to Krieg. He could tell the scientist was not keen on the mission. If they were to take back the city, they would have to strike quickly. They had to be precise. He moved forward silently. His father would guide them the whole way.

It would be simple; get into the Imperial Command building, place a bomb, and get. It would all be part of a greater plan. That night, Mercador would be freed.

The building stood before them, ominous in the dark of night. Corrin dodged between shadows. He heard Krieg's footfalls behind him. Two Imperial stood at the door of the office. Las-rifles sat lightly in their hands.

Corrin pressed his ear. "Follow my every move." He had begun to wonder why he had brought the man along. He felt he owed him, but had he put him in more danger? There was a crack. The Imperial's eyes shot to Krieg.

"What was that?" One said suspiciously. Krieg winced.

"I'm sorry," he said through the vox. Corrin held up his hand. The Imperials approached them carefully. He stood from his crouch quickly. It no longer mattered. He raised his slug rifle and stepped forward.

"Emperor…" One said. There was a flash and a bang. The Imperial fell to the floor. The other stepped forward, his hands up. Corrin turned and landed a shot on his heart. He fell, wheezing. Corrin sighed as the alarms blared. Krieg stepped forward.

"Now?" He said in a terrified tone. Corrin motioned to him. They rushed forward to the secured door. He swung to the side. Krieg did the same. The door slid open. Corrin leapt out. Three men stood there, rifles raised.

He threw the butt of his rifle into one's head. He quickly ducked the oncoming punch from the next and sent his fist careening into the man's gut. Krieg lunged out. His las-pistol pointed shakily at the final Imperial. Corrin watched him for a moment. The Imperial raised his hands.

Krieg closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The Imperial dropped on one knee. Corrin placed a shot in his back, ending his pain. He nodded at Krieg respectfully. The scientist nodded timidly back. He was shaken. Corrin could imagine he would never be the same.

His eyes flew forward. The door began to close. He flung his hands at the closing entrance. He strained against the motors. "Go!" He bellowed a Krieg, who quickly dove through the doorway. Corrin fell inside.

The hallways were bright with expensive illuminators. Red flashes flooded the room occasionally from the alarm system. Corrin moved forward. The door ahead of them drifted open.

A huge stairwell sat before the two men. The tan paint gave it a rustic feeling. It smelled of royalty. It led to the commander-governor of Mercador.

"Hey, someone's coming!" A shrill voice called from above. "To arms!"

Corrin hefted his Slug Rifle to his shoulder. "Stay back…" He muttered to Krieg. These Imperials had taken his home. He would bring the fight to them. He bolted up the stairs. Las-fire erupted from above him. He let out a shower of lead and blood. A guardsman tumbled down the stairs, head first.

Corrin flung himself to the side. Another Imperial aimed at him from above. A las-beam hit his shoulder, drawing blood. His rage increased. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He rushed ahead. A well-placed shot saw the sniper from above plummeting to his death below.

A grenade bounced from around the corner. Deftly, Corrin took hold of the death device and threw it against the wall. It bounced quickly. The huge hole blew in the corner ahead of him. Three men lay dead before his eyes.

Krieg was heaving his way up the steps behind him. Corrin didn't care. He was set on killing every Imperial in the building. His father had told him to capture the commander-governor. He had told him the man knew information that could get him to his wife. That was the only reason he would spare him.

He bounded up the stairs, ignoring the shots hailing down on him. He blasted down several Imperials. A round bounced out of its cartridge. He drew his knife calmly and cut down the final man.

Krieg caught up, breathing heavily. "Let's go." Corrin said coldly. A single door stood before them. Corrin kicked it open and raised his rifle. The room was dark. Only the far off glows of klaxons gave any light to the small office. A chair, it's back turned to them, sat facing out a window.

Smoke emerged from behind it. "Have you come to kill me?" A voice asked from behind it. Corrin gestured for Krieg to start arming the bomb. He stepped forward.

"Before we…chat, you'll turn around." Corrin said spitefully. The chair turned.

"Of course," the man in the chair said. He was in his forties, obviously. His features were unseen in the immense darkness. "Corrin Grant, I had heard rumor you had come back to your old home town."

Corrin looked at him with hatred. "Yes, I am Corrin Grant. Do you fear the name, Imperial?" The commander-governor was silent. Corrin had to get information. "I am told that, to access you sick prison, I need an access code. What would it be?"

The man smiled. "You are a good warrior, to bad your skills are not used in the service of the Emperor."

Corrin lunged forward and threw the man's head into the table. "What…" He roared. He slowly calmed himself down. "…Is the access code?"

The Imperial smiled. He heard a beep from behind him. "Corrin something's wrong with the bomb. It's some sort of channeller inside the building. It's setting itself!" Krieg said frantically. "Corrin, we have thirty seconds!"

"Good luck, Crin. Thirty-three nineteen is the code. May it give you luck in death!" The Imperial said mockingly.

"Come on!" Corrin yelled to Krieg. They hurried across the room. Corrin grabbed the scientist's shirt. He jumped through the window, shielding his companion. His body fell further and further towards the closest roof until the concrete was upon him.


	17. Chapter 17

Corrin nodded to Krieg. He could tell the scientist was not keen on the mission. If they were to take back the city, they would have to strike quickly. They had to be precise. He moved forward silently. His father would guide them the whole way.

It would be simple; get into the Imperial Command building, place a bomb, and get. It would all be part of a greater plan. That night, Mercador would be freed.

The building stood before them, ominous in the dark of night. Corrin dodged between shadows. He heard Krieg's footfalls behind him. Two Imperial stood at the door of the office. Las-rifles sat lightly in their hands.

Corrin pressed his ear. "Follow my every move." He had begun to wonder why he had brought the man along. He felt he owed him, but had he put him in more danger? There was a crack. The Imperial's eyes shot to Krieg.

"What was that?" One said suspiciously. Krieg winced.

"I'm sorry," he said through the vox. Corrin held up his hand. The Imperials approached them carefully. He stood from his crouch quickly. It no longer mattered. He raised his slug rifle and stepped forward.

"Emperor…" One said. There was a flash and a bang. The Imperial fell to the floor. The other stepped forward, his hands up. Corrin turned and landed a shot on his heart. He fell, wheezing. Corrin sighed as the alarms blared. Krieg stepped forward.

"Now?" He said in a terrified tone. Corrin motioned to him. They rushed forward to the secured door. He swung to the side. Krieg did the same. The door slid open. Corrin leapt out. Three men stood there, rifles raised.

He threw the butt of his rifle into one's head. He quickly ducked the oncoming punch from the next and sent his fist careening into the man's gut. Krieg lunged out. His las-pistol pointed shakily at the final Imperial. Corrin watched him for a moment. The Imperial raised his hands.

Krieg closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The Imperial dropped on one knee. Corrin placed a shot in his back, ending his pain. He nodded at Krieg respectfully. The scientist nodded timidly back. He was shaken. Corrin could imagine he would never be the same.

His eyes flew forward. The door began to close. He flung his hands at the closing entrance. He strained against the motors. "Go!" He bellowed a Krieg, who quickly dove through the doorway. Corrin fell inside.

The hallways were bright with expensive illuminators. Red flashes flooded the room occasionally from the alarm system. Corrin moved forward. The door ahead of them drifted open.

A huge stairwell sat before the two men. The tan paint gave it a rustic feeling. It smelled of royalty. It led to the commander-governor of Mercador.

"Hey, someone's coming!" A shrill voice called from above. "To arms!"

Corrin hefted his Slug Rifle to his shoulder. "Stay back…" He muttered to Krieg. These Imperials had taken his home. He would bring the fight to them. He bolted up the stairs. Las-fire erupted from above him. He let out a shower of lead and blood. A guardsman tumbled down the stairs, head first.

Corrin flung himself to the side. Another Imperial aimed at him from above. A las-beam hit his shoulder, drawing blood. His rage increased. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He rushed ahead. A well-placed shot saw the sniper from above plummeting to his death below.

A grenade bounced from around the corner. Deftly, Corrin took hold of the death device and threw it against the wall. It bounced quickly. The huge hole blew in the corner ahead of him. Three men lay dead before his eyes.

Krieg was heaving his way up the steps behind him. Corrin didn't care. He was set on killing every Imperial in the building. His father had told him to capture the commander-governor. He had told him the man knew information that could get him to his wife. That was the only reason he would spare him.

He bounded up the stairs, ignoring the shots hailing down on him. He blasted down several Imperials. A round bounced out of its cartridge. He drew his knife calmly and cut down the final man.

Krieg caught up, breathing heavily. "Let's go." Corrin said coldly. A single door stood before them. Corrin kicked it open and raised his rifle. The room was dark. Only the far off glows of klaxons gave any light to the small office. A chair, it's back turned to them, sat facing out a window.

Smoke emerged from behind it. "Have you come to kill me?" A voice asked from behind it. Corrin gestured for Krieg to start arming the bomb. He stepped forward.

"Before we…chat, you'll turn around." Corrin said spitefully. The chair turned.

"Of course," the man in the chair said. He was in his forties, obviously. His features were unseen in the immense darkness. "Corrin Grant, I had heard rumor you had come back to your old home town."

Corrin looked at him with hatred. "Yes, I am Corrin Grant. Do you fear the name, Imperial?" The commander-governor was silent. Corrin had to get information. "I am told that, to access you sick prison, I need an access code. What would it be?"

The man smiled. "You are a good warrior, to bad your skills are not used in the service of the Emperor."

Corrin lunged forward and threw the man's head into the table. "What…" He roared. He slowly calmed himself down. "…Is the access code?"

The Imperial smiled. He heard a beep from behind him. "Corrin something's wrong with the bomb. It's some sort of channeller inside the building. It's setting itself!" Krieg said frantically. "Corrin, we have thirty seconds!"

"Good luck, Crin. Thirty-three nineteen is the code. May it give you luck in death!" The Imperial said mockingly.

"Come on!" Corrin yelled to Krieg. They hurried across the room. Corrin grabbed the scientist's shirt. He jumped through the window, shielding his companion. His body fell further and further towards the closest roof until the concrete was upon him.


	18. Chapter 18

Krieg limped across the roof slowly. Corrin stumbled along, under the scientist's arm. Pieces of glass fell delicately out of his bloody, wet skin. His foot was skewed in an odd position. With much effort, he bent his ankle back into place. He clutched his chest and groaned in pain.

"Corrin, we need to get to a medic." Krieg said. Corrin shook his head.

"We go to my wife." He looked up. The town was on fire. There were yells and screams as the people protested in the streets. His father had succeeded. The building behind him had burned to the ground in the terrible explosion. The commander was dead.

Krieg nodded, knowing he could not argue. The prison camp stood out as a horrific sight in Corrin's view. The town ended suddenly and broke into a dark plain. Several yards out, the camp stood silent and dark. It almost seemed uninhabited.

Corrin leaned to his radio. He pressed the activate button lightly. "Father…we were successful. I have the code. We are going to the prison now." There was a buzz. He heard a laugh.

Good, good son! We are celebrating a great victory here. The Imperials are falling back! I will be there to assist you in…++

"No, father, I am going in alone." He let go of the button and his father's voice drained into the abyss.

"What do we do once we get in?" Krieg asked

"We free them, all of them." Corrin responded. Krieg stared at him.

"An entire prison camp?"

"It has been done." Corrin said with a smile, remembering. Grange drifted into his thoughts again. He felt a surge of guilt. He cleared his head and limped on. They reached the ladder. Corrin slid painfully down it and landed lightly on the floor below. Krieg followed quickly.

Several Imperials rushed across the street ahead and into an alley, pursued by rioting civilians. Corrin smiled. His people had returned. They walked down the narrow street. The plain was in sight. Corrin would save his wife, no matter what they had done to her.

The prison camp was an imposing figure in Corrin's vision. The barbed fence ahead stood as a barrier between him and his wife. He flicked out his combat knife and cut out a small opening. Krieg followed him through the fence cautiously. They walked carefully towards the steel door.

A small panel sat on the right corner of the door. Corrin looked upon it. Nine numerals shown in the electric light. Without thought, Corrin hit the tabs. 3.3.1.9.

The door creaked. Steam vented from the sides. It slowly banged open, a series of noises following its release. They entered. The hallway was eerily silent. Corrin ran his fingers along the wall. It had a strange complexion, almost natural.

There were several shrill cries. Corrin turned his ear to them. Children. The door shut with a bang. Corrin heard a snap. Krieg was shivering. "Sorry I brought you into this, Krieg."

"No, it is the right thing. I'm on the right side now. I know that. This was my choice." He said defiantly. Corrin smiled and continued on. The hall ended abruptly and turned into a small room. Cans of food lay littered on the ground. Blood stained the wall. Corrin bent down.

"Corrin…" Krieg said in a terrified voice. "Emperor…"

Corrin looked up immediately. A girl stood in the doorway, here eyes were blank and dead. Her mouth was shut tightly and set sternly in an awkward position. She pointed at Corrin. She began to walk forward.

Corrin stared at her aghast. He pushed her aside. She began weeping. Her eyes flared. She rolled about on the ground, groaning in an inhuman way, but she did not attack. "She's not a Treacherous One." Krieg said in awe.

The doorway were the child had stood was open. They continued through. There was still no sign of true life. Corrin stared around, disgusted. Pods of blue glass lined the walls. Humans sat inside them. Or, things that were humans. Their arms and heads were mutated horribly. Their eyes were in the same fashion as the Treacherous Souls Corrin had met.

Krieg was right, however, they were different somehow. Their faces did not express the same obvious want to kill. They simply sat, floating in an odd liquid.

They walked forward. Corrin held his hand out. Two windows sat along the walls beyond the pods. There was a whoosh of air. The windows were covered in a blue gas instantly. There was a creak. Corrin spun around. Krieg looked at him strangely.

"Did you hear that?" Corrin asked urgently. Krieg shook his head. They were being followed.

"Emperor!" Krieg said in astonishment. "This technology. Corrin, I think I know what this is!"

Corrin ignored him. He walked to the door hatch that led back to the entrance. "It's a trap…" He muttered. He hit the door. It didn't move. A small mechanism moved over it. "It's a trap!" He bellowed to Krieg.

He rushed back into the room. Krieg stood, fixated on the window. Corrin sped to him. The door ahead of them swung open. Corrin looked into the window briefly, then turned to the door. He stopped. He looked slowly back to the window with tears in his eyes. The person, or thing, that sat beyond the glass…was his wife.


	19. Chapter 19

"Corrin, is that…?" Krieg asked tentatively. Corrin nodded solemnly. The woman was a horror. Her head was dominated by a massive horn. Her arms had become tentacle like and barbed. She had a slimy tail, covered in green liquid. Her face was mouth-less. She was nothing like the woman he had known before, but somehow he knew it was her.

He had forgotten what was happening. He had forgotten their predicament. His only focus was his wife. He beat on the glass.

"No, Corrin, no!" Krieg yelled quickly. "If this is what I think it is, she could infect you!" Corrin didn't care. He beat his fists against the window more quickly. There was a deep roar. Krieg wheeled around.

"The Soulless!" He said, petrified. Corrin turned and raised his Slug Rifle. The blank eyed killing machines had become a common sight to him. He balanced his gun against his chest and fired a storm of slugs that pounded into the heads of the zombies.

He stepped forward and placed a shot into the forehead of a fallen Soulless. He took another glance at his wife and continued through the door. "Come on." He said flatly to Krieg.

It was an observation room. Several chairs sat, faced towards a massive window. Clean cups sat on a perfectly smooth table. A huge speaker sat beside the window. Corrin walked to the huge glass plate. He looked down. Krieg joined him.

"Good god!" Corrin said in horror. The sight below him was terrifying. Lines and lines of people stood there, unmoving, far below. They simply stood, silent and motionless. Corrin stared on. All he could see was people. The complex had to go into the mountains beyond Mercador.

"What are they, Krieg?" Corrin asked softly. "What is my wife?"

"The Lost Souls." Krieg responded in awe. He turned to Corrin. "The Lost Soul virus was said to be a rare strain of the Treacherous Soul Virus. When the TSV was created by Riktus, they say that the warp created altered forms of it. Supposedly, there are two. We only know of one, the Lost Soul."

Corrin gave him a look, asking for more information. Krieg sighed. "I don't know much. It is mainly a fairy-tale to my scientist companions. It was given to its first victim the same way as usual for a TSV…but the results were very different. The man could not be bent to Riktus' will. Instead, they became mindless shells."

He shook his head. "I don't understand it…the Emperor has been trying to get control of this strain for years! Mainly because slight exposure to a victim can cause infection. Now they have simply discovered it, without my knowledge. I don't…" He was cut off.

Corrin felt a strong arm on his back. He was thrown harshly out the window. He saw Krieg go with him. He turned over. A blank eyed man was plummeting down along side him. His teeth were gritted in an evil way. He tore out a bolt gun. Corrin threw himself aside as bolts passed him in the air.

He looked down. The ground was closing quickly. He lunged forward and grabbed the Soulless. The man's body dug slightly into the metal floor. Corrin stood shakily and meandered for a moment before regaining control of himself.

The Treacherous One crawled from the ground quickly and faced Corrin. He threw his eyes to the side and saw Krieg beginning to stand. Looking back, he saw the Soulless had raised his arms in a grappling position.

Corrin smiled and did the same. He was going to have his first true fight in months. He hurtled forward and locked arms with the man. They spun around and around, pushing for the upper hand. Corrin felt his grip slowly slipping. He hit one of the Lost Souls and stumbled. The Soulless got his chance.

Corrin flew to the ground. The man lifted his foot. There was a flash and he toppled to the floor. Krieg sped over to Corrin's hurt body. He lowered his hand. Corrin took it and pulled himself up. They stood, staring at the corpse of the Soulless. His body had finally been sent to peace.

There were more horrific roars. The two men stood back to back as shadows emerged against the walls. Dozens of Treacherous Souls stalked slowly towards them. They formed a tight circle around the companions. Suddenly, the halted in place.

There was a buzz. Motors clicked and moved. A series of beeps was followed by a hollow yell. The floor rumbled. A massive thing dropped from above. It was in the shape of a circle. It was colored of rust. Small needles stuck out from the slight curves on the edges. There was another click. Small, spider-like legs began to emerge from the bottom of the behemoth.

It landed quietly in front of the two men. In its front, there was a glass case. A man sat inside, his body attached to thousands of cords. His eyes were as white as ice. His red cloak shadowed his hair. Corrin looked on in horror at the beast in realizing what it was.

"Grange?"


	20. Chapter 20

There was a sharp beep. Grange slowly opened his mouth. It hung for a moment, a gaping maw. "We." He said in a robotic voice. "Knew.You. The mechanism moved closer. "There.Is.No.Escape!"

Corrin shook his head. "How could you let this happen, Grange?"

"We.Do.Not.Know.A.Grange. Only.Us."

Corrin raised his slug rifle. "Stay behind me, Krieg. I will handle him." Grange lunged forward. Corrin slid deftly under the mechanical leviathan. He lifted his rifle quickly and fired. The back of the thing flooded with greenish ooze as the slugs pierced the soft metal.

It wheeled around, rearing on two legs. The limp form of Grange inside tilted its head. Two massive bolt guns emerged from the side of the metal bug. Corrin dodged to the side as the guns swiveled and aimed at him.

The ground shook as enormous bolts ricocheted through the air. Corrin dove forward and loosed a round on Grange's pod. He quivered as warm liquid shot across his skin. He looked up. The machine had stopped. Grange's body had drifted to the bottom of the pod.

The Martian's head shot up. "Non-believer." He said in the all too familiar voice. The cords retracted. Before Corrin could move, the man was upon him. His hand had formed into a great blade. Corrin ducked quickly and shot between Grange's legs, only to be kicked in the back and sent to the floor.

The Adept jumped on him. His arm warped into a huge needle. "You will see the truth, Corrin!" The needle moved closer and closer. Corrin drove his knee into Grange's chest. The man grunted and they rolled over. Corrin sat above him, his slug rifle pointing at his old friend's face. He felt something in his pocket. He acted without thought.

Quickly, reached for the Alternative in his pocket. Grange smiled. Corrin had given him a chance. He felt the needle pierce his chest. He puked out bodily liquid. Grange was laughing. The needle pushed in further. "You feel the tingle as it enters your blood Corrin. You are one of Us!"

He heard Krieg let out a cry. Corrin gritted his teeth. His eyes narrowed. "Get out of him…" He muttered with hate. The soulless Grange's eyes widened. Corrin moved with speed he had never seen in himself. He tore the Alternative from his flak armor. He plunged it into Grange's neck.

"Kill them. All of them." One of the Soulless said as Grange began to twitch. Krieg raised his las-pistol and began to fire. He stepped over Corrin and Grange, lying on the floor. Grange's eyes shut. His arms flailed about across the ground.

Corrin turned on the ground and blasted down a Soulless with several shots. He immediately looked back to Grange. His eyes had opened. Slowly, color began to seep into them. The man had frozen completely. Corrin stared at him for a moment. Suddenly, he let out a wheeze.

"Corrin!" He said joyfully. To Corrin's surprise, the man reached up and embraced him. "Where the Frak are we?"

Corrin smiled. Grange was back. "Don't worry about that. We have another problem!" He stood and pointed at the approaching Treacherous Ones.

"How did I get you into this one? Who is that?" Grange asked hastily. He could not stop questioning.

"He's a friend. Now stop asking questions and fight." Corrin said urgently. Grange nodded. His hand reformed into a plasma cannon. Three Soulless exploded in a hail of fire.

"What the cac was that?" Krieg said, turning. He smiled. "Glad you're an ally!" Grange was grinning as he brought down more and more enemies. Corrin clutched his chest.

"Corrin?" Grange asked worriedly. "What's wrong."

"You…" Corrin said He shook his head and continued to fire. The Lost Souls around them had begun to slightly react to the action. They had slowly migrated into groups, watching. There was a buzz.

Intruders. Prepare to be cleansed++

Corrin looked up. The Soulless began to flee. He felt heat prickle up his spine. "Fire!" Krieg roared. Fire erupted from the walls all around them. Corrin threw himself and Grange to the ground. There was a squeal. Krieg fell, clutching his burnt arm. The fire spurted out inches above their bodies.

"Come on!" He wailed above the whizz of the inferno. They crawled quickly through the maze of heat. Grange held up his hand as they approached the wall. His arm formed into the cannon again. The wall ahead melted away instantly. Corrin threw his body through. His skin was drenched in sweat. He heard the others following him. He looked around. They stood inside of a small, white chamber. Two mirrors sat on either wall.

Something slumbered in the middle of the room. Corrin stared for a moment. It was his wife. "Corrin, I'm sorry." Krieg said sadly. Corrin shook him off. Grange walked forward and looked at her.

"Who is she?" Corrin ignored him. He walked forward.

"They used you." The Klaxons exploded to the point of bursting all around him. "You are an Imperial…rat." He raised his slug rifle. "I loved you. This is for you." He pressed the trigger. The thing stopped breathing immediately.

Corrin lowered his head. His eyes filled with tears. "Corrin!" Someone said urgently. "We have to go!" He continued. He felt hands on his shoulders. He was pushed out of the room. There was another blast as Grange blew open the door. Fire rushed about them. Corrin's tears streamed down his cheeks and onto his boots. He felt himself being pushed onto the grass outside. He closed his eyes. She was dead.


	21. Chapter 21

Devius Morto

Smoke drifted into Corrin's lungs. He coughed and looked back. The laboratory was a smoking ruin. The fire had left nothing. His eyes were raw from the tears he was barely restraining. The trio was rushing across the plain.

The village was hell. He could hear the screams from afar. He heard weapons fire. He heard marching. The Imperial reinforcements had arrived. "Damn it, Corrin. What's going on? Where are we?" Grange asked, loosing his hold on the questions.

"This is my hometown, Grange. That was my wife." Corrin said with a sob. The last remnants of his true life were burning before his very eyes. Grange shook his head.

"I'm sorry…Where is Riktus?" The adept asked tentatively as they sped down the hill towards the town.

"Mason has fallen. He has besieged Prometheus City. The Philosophers…" Krieg was cut off.

"I don't care what the philosophers say!" Grange roared. Krieg turned away exasperatedly. Corrin smiled slightly. He raised his slug rifle. They had arrived. The three men moved slowly into the town.

The streets were alive with war. Men scrambled back and forth across the streets, felling surprised Imperials. As the group entered, several people fell still. "Corrin Grant…?" One muttered. The man buckled and fell to the ground as a bolt ripped his head into shreds. Corrin roared in rage and blasted forward.

Several Imperials stood, shaken by the staggering speed of Corrin's movements. He squeezed the trigger with fury. The slugs rent the flesh of the Imperials instantly and they were brought to the floor.

He heard the gun fire of his companions as they followed behind him. He careened around an alley way. The next moment, his face hit the floor. He had collided with something, or someone. He looked slowly up.

"Son!" The man said happily. Corrin lifted himself up. Grange and Krieg stood beside him. His father looked suspiciously at the other men, and smiled at Corrin. "The fight does not go well. The Imperials have been reinforced. They are descending on the city like the rodents they are."

Corrin spat. "What can we do?"

"Nothing, son, we are in retreat!" He looked sadly at Corrin's shocked face. "We cannot allow our people to die! Where are the…?" Corrin shook his head. His father frowned and bowed his head. "May they rest in peace." Corrin knew they had no chance to do that, but he kept silent.

The town was silent for a moment. It was as though the battle had stopped entirely. Then, one single, Imperial word echoed the streets. "Retreat!" Corrin spun around, stunned. They were falling back, but why? An object on the far mountain caught his eye.

"God…They are purging the town!" As soon as Corrin uttered the words, it began. Fire and brimstone fell from the sky. The building beside them melted into a pile of rock, slag, and fire. His father grabbed his shirt and dragged him down the alley. The two others followed quickly.

They burst from the alley and into the burning darkness of the doomed town. There was a slight buzz. Corrin thought for a moment, recognizing the noise. "Father!" He pulled back on the man's shirt, but it was too late.

He dove backwards. His father's shirt ripped, leaving the old man stranded in the middle of the street. A great shell plummeted to the earth. There was a crash. Smoke clouded Corrin's eyes. He glanced up.

The street was empty. His father was gone. No remains covered the ground. He was gone. Grange lifted Corrin up. "Corrin, forget it! We have time to morn later. We need to get the Frak out of here!"

Krieg patted his back. "I'm so sorry about…" Corrin shook his head.

"Not either of your faults…" He said faintly. He looked up and rushed after the adept. More shells landed all around them. The town, his town, was destroyed. It was a useless wreck, a shadow of its former pride and glory.

They exited the town perimeter and moved into the darkness. A huge line of men stretched across the hills before them. Corrin's friends made for them. "No." He said flatly. They looked back. "We will not put them in more danger."

They nodded and followed after Corrin's hunched form into the mountains. "Which way is Prometheus?" He asked quietly.

"Over the mountains." Krieg responded. "I can lead you two there." Corrin nodded and turned from them. They began the slow hike up the mountain.

They wound around large boulders and across tiny, stone paths. Corrin kept the line of refugees in sight at all times. He feared for their protection. It was his fault. It was his entire fault. If he had not arrived, they would have been under Imperial rule…safely. But they wouldn't have stood for that! He brushed the thoughts away.

He couldn't keep his companions in danger. He had to speak. He suddenly stopped. "Corrin?" Krieg asked.

"Krieg, you saw what happened in the lab." He turned to Grange. "You infected me, Grange. You got me with a needle."

Krieg sighed. Grange looked in sorrow. "I…no, I…"

"You did. I forgive you. You were not yourself. You couldn't control yourself." Corrin said flatly. "But soon, I won't be able to either. I can't stay with you two. I have to do this on my own." The two men looked at him. Grange smiled, and laughed.

"You didn't give up on me, I won't on you. No matter how hard you try Corrin, you're stuck with me!" The adept said with a grin.

"And me!" Krieg said defiantly.

Corrin turned away. He hunched over. His mind exploded in horrible pain. His eyes filled with blood. He fell to the floor. It was his fight.


	22. Chapter 22

Corrin couldn't see. His eyes were pained horribly. He felt his body turning inside out in agony. Something pounded at his mind. Voices, an icy cold finger. He was afraid. He was rolling about across the floor. He heard muffled words from his frightened comrades.

A blurred voice blasted into Corrin's mind. He could not discern its words, but they sounded agitated. His head was screaming. "I will not give in…" He muttered quietly. His mind exploded in terrible pain. "I will not." He screamed.

"Corrin, don't let it take you." Someone yelled from above him. It was Grange. He remembered Johnson. He rolled over.

"I. Will. Not!" All went black.

"You do not have too." Someone said from out of the darkness. Suddenly, a room became illuminated in his eyes. Someone stood before him, clothed in black robes, his face concealed. "You never had to Corrin. You are too strong."

Corrin recognized the voice, but it was different somehow; cracked and dry. "Who are you?" Corrin asked suspiciously. There was no answer. "I will not converse with one who conceals his identity!"

"Corrin, can't you tell!" The man laughed as he removed his hood. Corrin gasped. "It's me!" Johnson stood before him, not a shell, not a Soulless, but Johnson. His skin was clean. The air smelled fresh. "Where are we?" Johnson said questioningly. Corrin nodded. "That's what I would have asked." Johnson said happily.

Corrin urged him on with a look. "We are in the right place at the right time!" Johnson said lightly. Corrin looked at him oddly. Johnson shook his head. "No more, no less. Now, let me see, why are you here?" Corrin was astounded by the man's hidden intuition. He had always just been a loyal, strong, though vulgar, friend.

"Yeah, of course. And, how the hell are you here?" Corrin felt he could no longer hold in his emotion. He had taken on a different personality since Johnson had gone. It was time to go back, to relax.

"This, Corrin, is the keep of the Soulless." Johnson roared, spreading his arms wide. "This is my curse, and my home until that bastard is dead." Corrin knew he was speaking about Riktus. "Think of it as Riktus' world in his mind, where he gets to watch us play…" Johnson smiled. "But you, Corrin, you are different. This is not your home."

He motioned for Corrin to follow him. They walked softly through golden marble hallways. Corrin looked around in awe. It was magnificent. Arches of beautiful structure covered the roofing. The walkways were embroidered with gold bolts of thunder. "Impressed?" Johnson said with a chuckle. "Remember, this is Riktus' mind. This is his _dream _and we must never let him have it."

"Of course," Corrin replied

"Now, onto business." Johnson sighed. "I have not seen my body in weeks. We are cursed to eternal scuttling from room to room in this great mansion." He stopped and faced Corrin. "You, as I said, are different. Corrin, you are the Immune."

Corrin stared at him, befuddled. "In all his glory, the Emperor made a mistake." There was a crack. Johnson looked up, terrified. "Corrin, I…you have little time!" He continued to walk. "Look, the Dev…the Treacherous Soul Virus was engineered as a super-weapon by the Emperor. He though it would be an all destroyer. He thought it would be unstoppable. No one would resist."

Johnson breathed in as they walked through a doorway. "He was wrong. The virus divided. There were three strains: one with the Emperor, one running rampant across the world, and one…to be hidden."

Johnson walked out to the platform ahead and stared Corrin joined him. Millions of people stood below, moving and interacting. "The other ones like me." Johnson said in the side. "Anyway, there were some, they did not know how, who were Immune. They say they were chosen. Some say it was because of the splitting of the virus, others…It doesn't matter. Corrin, you are Immune." Corrin looked at him strangely.

"I am Immune to the Virus?" Corrin looked up, amazed. He was Immune. But what did that mean? What was Corrin, some kind of hero? He was no hero. Johnson smiled.

"Yes, Corrin, and you are our only chance." There was a screech. "They are coming!" Johnson bellowed. The people below halted. "Corrin, go, now. Leave this place. You can, just go!"

Corrin imagined himself gone. The world blurred. Robbed warriors emerged from all sides. "Johnson, don't die!" He roared sadly. Johnson grinned as Corrin began to disappear.

"Have I ever? Nah, and today's not a good day!" He said, raising his fists to the warriors. Corrin soared away. Stars flew past his head and into his eyes. It was black again. He would not give up. He would find his friend. He would kill Riktus. He would avenge his family. He would do it for Merica, for he was a Merican soldier.


	23. Chapter 23

Corrin sat up. He was breathing at a quick pace. His hand reached out into the darkness of the night around him. "Johnson…" There was a slight movement.

"Corrin? Corrin, by the Omnissiah, you're awake!" It was Grange. He heard a slight snap. An illuminator focused the area around them. Grange was gritting his teeth, pointing his bolt pistol at Corrin's head.

"What the Frak are you doing?" Corrin cried. Grange smiled and lowered the weapon.

"I had to make sure." He thought for a moment. "But, I stabbed you with the virus. You should be infected…"

"But I'm not. Look, Grange, it's a long story…" He looked around. "Where's Krieg?" Grange closed his eyes.

"I don't know. He disappeared. I don't know. I searched for him for a while, but I couldn't leave you." Grange said sadly. Corrin nodded. He examined his surroundings. They were obviously still in the mountains. "I thought we had lost you Corrin."

"I thought so myself." Corrin replied sadly. He stood. "Have we made any headway?" Grange shook his head. Corrin motioned for him to stand. "Then we can't rest. If Krieg is gone, he is gone. We need to move."

Grange nodded. There was a great tension. What had happened to Krieg, Corrin wondered. But he couldn't waste time looking for someone who could be dead. He raised his slug rifle from the ground. They looked at each other for a moment. They knew what had to be done. Corrin began to walk around the thin mountain paths, Grange following close behind.

Corrin closed his eyes. Had he truly talked to Johnson, or was it another trick from Riktus like the visions in the forest? He had so much to think about. He opened his eyes and halted in place. "Grange, are those…?"

"The citizens of Mercador." Grange finished his sentence. Far below on the rolling mountain plains, dozens of people lay sleeping. There were few of them, much less than before. Corrin spat. The Imperials must have attacked them, unarmed civilians.

There was a flash and several screams echoed throughout the mountains. Corrin looked to the north. Several speeding figures were descending on the refugees like a storm. Corrin didn't think. He didn't take time to reason. Before Grange could grab him, he jumped lightly onto the cliff on the mountain and slid down, towards his townspeople.

Rocks and dust flew about him rapidly. He felt hard material bite down on his skin. His teeth rubbed roughly together. With a short leap, he landed on the lush grass. His feet were shot with pain, but he ignored it. The people were screaming all around as the Imperial raiders killed their friends and family.

Corrin spun. One of the Imperials was careening towards him on a small hover-bike. The man smiled maliciously. Corrin lifted his rifle. The smile drained off the Imperial's face as Corrin pressed the trigger and dove out of the way.

The man flew out of his seat and over the mountain while his craft soared away into the rocks. Fire and stone blasted across the field. Grange appeared by Corrin's side. "You crazy bastard!" He laughed with a smile as a plasma cannon formed on his arm.

The two stood back to back, firing back and forth at the oncoming raiders. The civilians stood huddled behind them. There were too many. More and more Imperials hurtled into the small, grassed area. Corrin roared as one jumped at him. His rifle shot up and spat death into the man's chest.

"Surrender in the name of the Emperor." A low, angry voice said. The Imperials stopped. Grange and Corrin turned. Corrin knew the voice. He knew what it was before it even showed itself. A massive warrior stood before them, his bolt gun armed and pointed at their puny bodies. Corrin stepped forward.

"No," Grange said quietly. Corrin looked at him, confused. The Martian's mournful look turned to rage. "This one's…mine!" He bellowed. Corrin turned away as his friend rushed into combat with the giant. He had to protect his people.

He looked around and fired a slew of slugs into the Imperials approaching them. His gun pivoted back and forth, firing into the legions of enemies. "Lay down your weapon, Grant. It's over." A cold voice stated. The voice was right. Corrin looked to the side. Grange lay atop the body of the giant warrior, wounded. Imperials stood over him happily, pointing weapons at his skull.

"I will not surrender to you." Corrin growled. He felt something growing in his chest. He had felt it, since the lab, but never like this. Something had changed within him. His eyes flared. His hands relaxed and contracted as energy flowed through his blood stream. He felt adrenaline pumping throughout his body. "I will not." And with that, he was upon them.


	24. Chapter 24

Why was this happening? Corrin stood alone on the desolate street, his eyes shot with blood, his legs weak from running. He took a small step forward and collapsed. His head swiveled about in a daze. The city was ruined. Ghosts of the dead wandered aimlessly through the empty relics that were buildings, emitting screeches that tore into his soul.

"St-stay back…" He groaned as they took up poses of sorrow, arms outstretched. The Merican Flag lay, tattered before him. His eyes shot up, spotting the great steeple of the capital building. Glory. He had failed. The city was sacked.

There was a crack. "Show yourself!" He yelled, gasping for air.

"You see us, Corrin, we are everywhere." that horrible voice called to him in response. It was Riktus. "You have failed, fool." Hundreds of Astartes giants emerged from the black, brushing away the assailing spirits of the dead.

"I…no…no…" Corrin groaned. The dark psyker made his way through the ever increasing ranks of Imperial Soldiers. Great banners of the Lightning unraveled and replaced the dilapidated flags of Merican control. On the evil man's back, a great cross was held, signifying the end of religion. On it, President O'Connor sat, dead, blood staining his arms.

Great Thunderbirds soared across the smoke-masked sky, spilling red smog from their engines, dragging emblems of the Emperor behind them. Imperial Warriors, flanked by Astartes, psykers, and…he gasped. Treacherous Souls, hundreds of them. All he knew. His mother, his father, his wife, Jonathan, Grange, Grange, citizens of Mercador, they were everywhere.

"I see it your eyes, Corrin. You know your defeat. Surrender yourself to the Emperor that you might fight alongside His great armies." Riktus laughed. Corrin, with his final strength, stood and spat at the ever closing Riktus' feet. Riktus' smile faded. "Every time we meet, you dishonor me. Every time, you escape my wrath out of pity. No more."

With that, he came. The figure Corrin had been thinking about. Johnson made his way through the crowd to Riktus' side. "Johno, see sense!" Corrin called. A fire burned in Johnson's eyes, one that Corrin had never seen nor imagined. "What…what has happened to you?"

"It is too late, Grant, you can't save him now. He has seen the light of the Emperor and he follows, unlike the fool." Riktus said scornfully.

"Call me a fool…again." Corrin growled.

"Fool." Riktus said smugly. Corrin made for him immediately. "Kill him." Corrin made a slight movement, to Johnson. His eyes filled with horror at the las-pistol before him.

"Joh…" A blast, he fell flat.

"Corrin, wake up!" Corrin's head jarred. He almost screamed as he looked into the face of Grange. "We're going through A-A fire. We need everyone on alert." He nodded shakily. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…yeah I'm fine. Just a nightmare." Corrin replied. Had it been? What had he seen? Whatever it was, it had brought him terror beyond belief. The ship rocked slightly.

This is the pilot. We're taking more. Everyone get ready.++

Grange turned to him. "Damned Imperials have every route to Glory blocked out by A-A and defensive positions. They don't want anything getting in, or out!" Corrin still felt no need to speak, and simply acknowledged he had heard with a quick nod.

More blasts shook the ship. Corrin groaned. Every time he got in a ship, it seemed to go down.

No worries, boys! I'll outmaneuver this round and a landing area is close!"++

More blasts ensued. Someone screamed. "Damn, they have us tagged!" The flak guns mounted aboard the A-16 fired away, moaning as they lost ammunition. Corrin could not think of the situation. To many questions ran through his mind. He examined his hand, veins plastered against the skin unnaturally. He was a monster, albeit one fighting for a purpose, but still a monster. What did this gift mean?

Riktus was powerless to use his multitude of super-viruses on him. His strength was obviously elevated, along with senses, and a loss of will…He was brought from his thoughts by another great explosion.

He could no longer take it. With the final blast, he made his way to the pilots chamber. Pushing the door aside, he stormed in. The pilot looked taken aback. "Mister Grant?"

"This is an A-16?" Corrin asked the rhetorical question.

"Yes sir…"

"Chutes?"

"Yes sir…"

"We'll make a jump."

"That's impossible, you'll all be killed!"

"Then I'll make the jump." The pilot stared at him, dumbstruck. Corrin moved to the vox and pressed the record button. "This is Corrin Grant. You have a choice. Stay in the targeted ship, or make a jump with the A-16 parachutes. Make the decision now. You have two minutes."

The pilot stammered something. "I…sir…I…"

"At ease pilot, I'll see you in Hell." He said as he exited the room. The main hull area was alive with activity as people argued amongst themselves and said their final goodbyes. "Time is up!" He bellowed through the commotion as he grabbed a chute. "Take them, and line up. We all know the drill."

Closing his eyes, he latched himself to the roof. He thought of Capar, the first drop, and Johnson. He thought of revenge. Grange made for him. "You're crazy."

"I know." Corrin smiled. "I'll see you around?"

"No." Grange grinned, "you'll see me on the ground." The adept grabbed a chute. Corrin laughed. He was glad his friend would be coming.

"Everyone set?" A resounding yes. "Go…" He whispered to himself. He heard the numbers, counting down. Finally, "One, check!" He screamed over the roar of the wind. With a click, he unlatched and made the jump. He relished in the return to the sky, the place he had always coveted, drop combat, true fighting, not the Imperial way. He pulled the cord, letting the fabric rip away. He attained that feeling of weightlessness, and made his way to the ground. To the Imperials.


	25. Chapter 25

Krieg seemed to be failing quickly. He had descended into convulsions and was now crouching on the ground. The air in the craft was one of tension, from both parties. The meek man opened his mouth. "We've done this to you…Corrin. I am sorry. I cursed you." He looked frantically at Corrin. "You were a test. Please, forgive me! I didn't know you!" "Krieg, a test for what? For what? What is that symbol?" Corrin asked hastily. The man was still reeling on the ground. Corrin spun on the others. "What's happening to him? What have you done to me?" "Corrin…they…cannot be trusted. You and Grange…must escape." He heard Krieg mutter. "Shut up, 3-28!" The cold man roared. He sent a kick into Krieg's side. Corrin sprung forward and an electrical pain surged through his body. He was still bound by the odd cuffs. "Leave him the Frak alone…" Corrin groaned as he regained his senses. The man stumbled backwards as Krieg struck out at his legs. He threw up his hands, signaling everyone to stay back. Krieg began to drool. He dropped from all fours and fell straight to the cold ground. He shook and moaned as seizures began across his entire body. His mouth was drooling and open and his eyes rolled into his head. "Kill. Me." He said in an odd, inhuman voice. He stood slowly and shook more. He was Krieg no more. He wandered aimlessly across the room. "Take him to research." One of the men said. Two robotic things emerged from behind Corrin and took the Lost Krieg away. The man who had seemed to be the leader stepped forward. "I am Lord Brall. You shall know me as lord." Corrin spat. "Ah, ah, ah, don't be rude. We've heard so much about you, Corrin, we might as well be best friends!" He turned to Grange's limp body. "And Grange, when he awakens, we know each other as well!" "I don't think we'll share any kind of relationship," Corrin began, "Brall." Lord Brall looked truly offended. "I think I deserve some answers. First, who the hell are you people." "I'm sorry, I…" "Who, the hell, are you people?" Corrin repeated, extremely agitated. Brall sighed. "We are the Akman Brall, an 'organization' of sorts devoted to science." Grange began to squirm. He lifted his head slightly. "They are rebels…" He murmured. "Hated throughout Mars as the traitors and lunatics they are…" "I see our friend Grange is awake. Someone restrain him more." The Lord said lightly. He turned back to Corrin. "Our latest devotion has been the Devian Mortis." Corrin stared at him, completely lost. "The…oh…the Treacherous Soul Virus of course!" Brall said exasperatedly. "You, are our latest subject." Corrin's mind was racing. What had they done to him? The small chair that was his prison spun to face a series of computers. "Corrin, don't listen to them! Don't do what they ask!" He heard Grange call. There was a small flurry of noise as the others obviously tried to shut the adept up. "What do you hate?" Brall asked, tearing Corrin's eyes from the screens. He was silent. "You hate the Imperials, don't you?" He was still silent. "Not cooperating will only bring you pain." He felt a shock pierce his bruised skin. His mind flashed back to that faithful night, in the command tent. The night Johnson had turned. He remembered interrogating the Imperial. The man was valiant. He withstood all the pain, until his body could take no more. Corrin would do the same. "I will not kill you, Corrin. I need you. But all wounds can be healed…" The man said with a cackle. "You experienced a change in mind on the mountain. How did it feel, to loose control?" Corrin stared at the man and smiled. "Damn you! Speak!" Lord Brall bellowed. He turned around in an attempt to calm himself. "Where is the vaccine…?" He turned back. "3-28 should have given it to you. Where is the vaccine?" More shock ran down Corrin's spine. He shuddered. "Answer me!" The shock was getting worse and worse. He felt the cuffs begin to shake. If he held on for a moment longer… "Sir, something's coming up on us!" Someone called. "Thunderbirds, from the aft!" The ship rocked as missiles and small fire hit the hull. The lights flickered and died. There was a click, and Corrin full loosely to the floor. It came again. Something pulsed through his veins, pure adrenaline. He felt himself being lifted from the floor. The lights flashed for a moment. He stood over Grange. He threw out both of his hands. "Stay the Frak away…" He said in a cold voice, not his own. There was another crash. He lifted Grange's body slowly. "The escapes. Where are the Frakking escapes?" It was too late. He felt his body begin to fall to gravity. "We're going down!" The pilot screamed from the cockpit. The exit hatch closed on Corrin and Grange. He breathed out. After all of this, to die here… A cold, clammy hand grabbed them. He looked up. "How?"


	26. Chapter 26

The craft hurtled faster and faster to the ground. Corrin gasped as he felt the hand barely holding him. The fingers slowly loosened their grip. Above him stood Krieg, his eyes blank as the night. His mouth was drooling, yet, somehow his face showed a slight emotion. He looked scared.

Corrin threw up his arm and grasped the pole above him. Where it would have been a support beam, it was now a bar with which he could pull himself up. He watched in horror as Krieg's limp body shot towards the bottom of the craft. The exit hatch blasted open and air seethed in.

He felt Grange's wait bearing down on him even more as Krieg became a speck in the distance. The speck was getting closer and closer. His adrenaline was pumping still, in that unnatural way. However, he had gained some control back. With all of his might, he pushed up on the bar and clambered atop it. With strength not his own, he threw Grange's body over his shoulder.

The ground was closing, closer and closer. He looked ahead, at a small window. This was his last chance. Dirt and mud exploded into the hull of the ship. Corrin lunged through the window. He felt glass shatter across his skin as blood trickled from his arms. Covering Grange's body, he rolled lightly across the sand below.

There he lay, for a moment, covered in loose, hot sand. He raised his head and looked about. It was desert, all desert. He stared out across the endless plains of heat. A massive leviathan of smoke and fire shone on the horizon.

"Promethius…"He whispered. He groaned and closed his eyes.

"Hey, these ones are alive!" Said a gruff, Imperial voice. Corrin cursed. He had not the strength to fight.

"Yeah, Frak! How'd they survive that crash? Take them back to camp." The was a series of noises. Then, one of the Imperials yelled. Corrin's ears were filled with gunfire. He felt warm liquid splatter his back.

"Look!" said a new character while the fight raged on. "They've got prisoners." Corrin sighed in relief. It was Merican. "He's got Merican badges alright, he's a Merican soldier. Looks like he's got a friend."

Corrin's eyes fluttered open. Imperial bodies littered the ground. Mericans stood all around him. Their uniforms were black, signifying the city of fire, Promethius. They smiled at him. He nodded. One of them hoisted him up to his feet.

"Can you walk?" He said. Corrin nodded again. "Let's go." The voice ordered. They began to move along a small, worn path. Corrin turned back to see Grange being dragged along in the sand. He didn't say anything.

A thick layer of smog engulfed the area and his lungs burned.

"Jacobs, new-comer." A person, hidden by smoke, said hastily as Corrin coughed. There was a ruffle. A small object was stuffed into his face from out of the grey.

"Wear it." Another said. Corrin looked down. It was a mask. He placed it over his face slowly. His eyes looked through thermal sensors, and his mouth was covered by a small filter. "Don't want to get sick."

"So who the Hell are you guys?" asked the voice that had given the orders earlier. Corrin opened his mouth and coughed again. "Damn, he's recovering from the smog…"

"Sir…" said a rather feeble voice. "I caught a glimpse of his face. He's, he's Corrin Grant!" There were various calls of approval.

"Good god! Corrin Grant? Sorry we haven't given you a proper welcome!" Said the commanding voice. "We just want you to know that, what ever the Frak you're doing, we are all rooting for you!"

He was bombarded with questions.

"Is it true you freed and entire prison camp single handedly?"

"Did you really overthrow the Imperial rule in Mercador in a day?"

"Did you actually spit on the Emperor's feet?"

Corrin laughed at the last one. He coughed again. "Please, I'm not that much of a hero. None of that I did alone." He said in a low voice, to avoid cracking his voice. He still felt the burning heat of the dozens of eyes on him.

"Corrin, I welcome you to Promethius." said someone finally. He could hardly tell the difference between the city and the desert. A thick layer of smog still covered his vision. He barely made out the graffiti covering the wall before him: Welcome to Hell. The walls of the buildings were pock marked. Their windows were broken, and their supports were crumbling.

They walked silently. The heat signature of the lead Merican raised its hand. They all stopped. There was a flash, and his heat waned. It turned blue. Corrin roared in anger. Snipers.

"Kill the Crin, all their kin. Kill the Crin…" He heard it repeated over and over again as they dodged around into the rubble surrounding them. He raised his slug rifle and fired endlessly. He felt the cartridge fall out, and replaced it instantly. He would not hide anymore.

He threw himself over the rubble. His rifle was bursting with light and fire as the Imperials fell all around him. "I," He bellowed, "Am Corrin Grant!" He fired more and more. Bullets bit into the skin of the Imperials. They howled in pain. He heard the Mericans around him rising and joining him.

He danced a dance of death, spitting ravenous bullets across the field of battle. "Shit, Shit," He heard an Imperial whispering. He drove the nozzle of his rifle into the man's gut and fired. The bullets, soaked in blood, shot through his body and embedded themselves in the next enemy.

He spun and locked arms with another. With little effort, he flipped the man to his back. His rage was building again. It wouldn't be long. He whipped the man beside him with the butt of his rifle. The Imperials would go no further than the City of Fire.


	27. Chapter 27

Corrin stared into Riktus' eyes with terrible hate. The tall man smiled. "The feeling is mutual!" He said with a dry laugh. Something in his face shone through, the screams of a thousand souls. Corrin could hold back no longer. He lunged forward. A heavy foot drove him to the ground several inches from the Controller's feet.

"No, no, let him play!" said Riktus in a mock whine. Corrin spat on his feet. Riktus laughed again. Corrin looked up at him. His build was not what one would imagine of such an aged man. He seemed fit and athletic. His arms and legs were muscular and his mood seemed joyful and hyperactive. That did not make Corrin warm to him. At the core, the man was a genocidal killer. His blonde hair dangled down in a long style that complemented his deep, black eyes. His lips were curled in the same way as his nose, giving a regal look. No matter his physic, Corrin could never like Riktus.

"Corrin, I've been waiting for this for some time. You know, a private," He stressed the word, "chat." He smiled as the thin man and the Astartes exited the building.

"That's right. Show you aren't afraid of me…" Corrin muttered. "Come a little closer…"

"Corrin, Corrin…You have so much to learn!" Riktus cackled. Corrin was getting sick of the psyker's terrible humor. "I did fear you, once. You were correct. I saw someone who could stand in my way; someone who could pose an immediate problem. And so, like any human would, I felt some fear for you; more resentment and hate, but yes, some fear." He walked to the end of the room and examined several bottles on a table.

"Don't bother standing." He said coolly as Corrin began to move. "You can't" He turned back to Corrin with an even brighter smile. "You see Corrin…" He paused and looked away, then nodded as if to himself. "Johnson, he called you Cor. Do you mind if I refer to you likewise?" Corrin did not need to show the degree at which he despised the man, Riktus understood.

"Good, I'm glad you agree! So you see Cor," Corrin winced, "I have you now!" He removed a needle from his long cloak. "Do you know what is in this?"

"Stuff it up your Arse!" Corrin bellowed.

"Ha, I do so enjoy Merican humor. It is the Devian Mortis, Corrin. Do you know…of course you do! This is what took your Johnson!" Riktus shook his head in remembrance. "Jonas, he was so cooperative. I offered him the world. He took it with open arms. He took me as a father," Riktus grinned. "I used him! Now he's dead. He was a tool. You are a tool. We are all tools in the Emperor's grand scheme.

"Tell me," Corrin asked, seething with anger, "This question has been on my mind since the battle of Capar. Who is your Emperor? In fact, answer that from the view of a faceless soldier, fighting for a man he's never seen and never heard. Yet, he fights for this man. Why, and don't give me a shit answer Riktus. Why?"

The psyker was thrown off guard by the sudden outburst. "I…what do you…?"

"Don't Frak with me…" Corrin muttered. "You wanted a personal conversation, I'm keeping this dead bird alive."

Riktus sighed. "It is impossible for a heretic such as yourself to comprehend the Emperor." He smiled again. "Now, this will work immediately. There will be no waiting. I have engineered this just for your Cor…"

Corrin's middle finger shot up. "I said no shit answers." He whispered spitefully. Riktus ignored him and stepped forward. Corrin did not resist. He half-smiled as the needle was driven into his back. There was a flash. He looked into Riktus terrified eyes.

"What? What's going on?" He cried. The room lit up. The door banged as someone tried to enter. Riktus thrashed around as Corrin slowly rose. Adrenaline coursed through his body. He dove on the crippled psyker and flung him to the ground. The door blew open as an Astartes threw it down.

A bolt sent him flying across the room. He landed and rolled to his feet, brushing away the pain in his rush of fury. To his own amazement, his punch saw one of the Astartes hurtling to the ground. He dropkicked the second and drove his foot into its face with astounding force. He wheeled around and prepared to take down the final attacker.

He froze. Johnson stood before him, bolter raised. He lowered his arms and bowed his head. He thought back to the Mechanicus craft. "Johnson…?" He heard Riktus slowly recovering inside the building, but he couldn't think. "It's Corrin, your friend. Remember, Johno…Johno…" He began to cry. Johnson's hand shook slightly.

"No!" Riktus called, "He is a non-believer. Don't kill him. Take him to the cells." There was a pause. "Now!" Johnson wrapped his arms under Corrin's and drove him forward. Corrin smiled in realization. Part of Johnson had just shown itself to him. There was a chance. There was a chance.


	28. Chapter 28

The rage was building again. It came, more and more as he cut down the Imperials. He felt something shoot through his veins. _Corrin, stop, you're going too far… _A voice muttered in his head. He gasped. The new Corrin ignored the warning and went on. A las shell blasted into his shoulder.

He groaned, but blasted on. _Corrin, stop… _He shook his head and rushed ahead. He felt more fire exploding onto his back. Something exploded beside him, throwing him aside. A bolt shell lay at his feet. A giant warrior stood before him. _Corrin…_ He righted himself and charged the warrior.

He was forced to his knees in a scream of agony. _No… _The voice was silenced. He realized, too late, it was his own. He felt the heat draining itself from his body quickly. His muscles relaxed, but the pain remained. He had regained control, but he could not move.

The giant stood above him. More Imperials joined him. He began to thrash uncontrollably. He was as the hunted to the hunters, wounded and downed. He sat in the shadow of dozens of enemy soldiers. This was his end then.

The giant raised his bolter. "Wait!" Someone said hastily. "That's, that's Corrin Grant!" The speaker looked at the giant. "I'll call lord Riktus!" Corrin looked straight up. Riktus. Riktus was here, and he would meet him again, face to face. He looked up.

"Your lord cannot stop me, neither can you! You…" But he did not finish. The giant sent his fist lightly into Corrin's skull. It was black.

He was still in Promethius. He could tell by the distinct smell of industry and the stench of the death-smog. For the second time in his life, he found himself flanked by enormous super-men. He looked around at the huge Imperial Lightning Bolt banners. He spat. They had taken the City of Fire. He had sworn they would go no further, now they had. There was only one more city in their path: Glory, capital of Merica.

"Keep still and keep quiet." grunted one of the Astartes. Imperial soldiers bustled back and forth along the streets, to and from the buildings. Terrified Merican citizens stared at Corrin as he was marched by. Many of them had open mouths. Corrin Grant had been captured. He knew that was what they were thinking. They were thinking hope was lost.

But they were Merican. They held inside of them that spark of resistance and difference that had established the country in the first place so many millennia ago. He nodded at each of them and silently made the sign of Merican with his fingers. Some smiled; many shook their heads and turned away.

If they were to give up, he would not. He looked up at the Astartes. "Why do you fight for him? The Emperor, I mean." The warriors were silent. He saw one of them squint. "Why?"

"I said to keep silent." The Astartes said as he hit Corrin in the chest. He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him. More banners hung everywhere. He turned back in defiance.

"Why do you kill us? What have we done? Can we not coexist?" They were silent. "Are you made for war? Is there any human inside of you?" He felt the fist descend into his chest again. His lungs filled up then extinguished.

"You can't…beat me back…" Corrin smiled. "I'm better than that…" They turned away from him. They took a sharp turn. Before he could think, he was thrown through an open door. He fell to the cold steel below and winced. What he would have given for one of his rushes of adrenaline.

He looked up. A shadowy figure stood there. His face was completely concealed by his hood. His arms were unnaturally long and thin. He was of abnormal build. His body was sinewy and thin. It almost seemed brittle.

"Corrin Grant…" He said with a click. He removed his hood, showing a thin, grey skinned face. He smiled. "What are you, my friend? What are you?" Corrin stared at him in hatred, the same hatred that he shared with all Imperials. "Answer me…" The kind tone of the man descended into annoyance. He felt one of the Astartes hit him. He cringed and finally collapsed completely.

"So, Corrin, maybe you will answer this time? What are you?" Corrin shook his head. "You don't know? Oh yes you do! It doesn't matter anymore, Corrin. You've lost. We've got you!"

"Shut up." Corrin said with a grin.

"What?"

"Shut up. You don't know what the Frak you're talking about. Merica will never surrender to your Emperor." The Invincibles moved for him again, but the thin man raised his hand. "We have power you can't even comprehend."

The man smiled. "Yes, what kind of secrets does your great country hold."

"You won't get into me that easily." Corrin laughed. He felt something slam into the back of his knee. He wailed. His other knee went as well. Next his back went. "Frak! Stop!" As soon as they halted, he formed a smile.

"You underestimate me…"

"Sir," The thin man said curtly. "You will call me sir." Corrin chuckled.

"I'll call you what ever I want." The thin man nodded again. He heard the Astartes moving forwards once more. The man was persistent.

"Stop." Said a cold, evil voice. Corrin smiled again.

"I was waiting for you to intervene…" He said happily as he rolled over. A man towered over him, the same man he had met in Mason, the same man he would kill. "…Riktus."


	29. Chapter 29

Somewhere along the line, Corrin had lost consciousness. His body slumped up against Johnson, who continuously pushed him forward. The adrenaline had drained from him, unsupported. Now he lay, fidgeting, eyes closed, on a concrete table. He raised his head slightly, feeling the restraints latched to his chest.

The pain came as he lowered his head again. Something was missing. He felt emptiness on his torso. His neck cricked as he looked to his shoulder. He held his breath. There was nothing. His shoulder was bloody and empty. His left arm was completely gone. A huge bruise flowed smoothly down his naked chest. Blood covered rags on the ground around him and small tools were sprawled across the floor.

He came to realize that he lay in a makeshift hospital. It was the worst sort of medical facility imaginable. He imagined it had been created aside from the main hospital, just for him. He jumped as something tapped his gored shoulder. It was great, mechanical arm. It buzzed around loudly, sowing what looked like steel onto his shoulder blade.

The Imperials were fixing him…but why? A giddy voice called from the shadows.

"Finally, our new toy is awake!" A man stepped into Corrin's view. A Medicae badge hung loosely from his bloodstained apron. His gloves were covered in gooey guts and black in soot. His mouth and hair were covered by a large, white mask. It was a rather disturbing sight. As Corrin looked closer, he noticed something familiar under the man's uniform: A Merican Medic badge.

"Traitor." He spat. The man laughed, but Corrin could see the hurt burning in his eyes.

"Corrin, Merica is doomed. The intelligent ones choose the right side…" Corrin cut him off.

"The brave ones fight." He said scornfully. The man turned away and grumbled something inaudible. "What's your name," He looked at the badge more carefully, "Private?" The man stood with his back to Corrin. "Answer me, I am a commanding officer."

"I said shut up! Shut the Frak up! Merica is a fragment of the past! The Emperor has…"

"Emperor Ha! Who is the Emperor? Who is this man you all worship? Surely you can tell me?" Corrin roared. The man wheeled around and punched Corrin in the jaw. He moved his jaw muscles in a rotation, attempting to release the pain.

"I said…shut up…" The Merican wheezed. "I have a job to do. Now, let me do it or I'll accidently give you a little overdose." He said threateningly. Corrin laughed in a hearty, mocking way.

"I see, you have all the power now. Go ahead, tell me. Why am I here?" He asked seriously. "Why have they not killed me?"

"I can't tell you." Corrin stared at him. "I can't." There was silence. "They'll kill me, Corrin, they'll kill me!" The man cried desperately. Corrin nodded. Now he was getting somewhere. "My name is Griff, Jack Griff."

"Alright Jack, why am I here?" He repeated.

"You know about the… the Treacherous Soul Virus I expect." Jack began. Corrin nodded. "Right, Corrin, you're the missing link! Your immunity, it sterilizes the viruses, both strains. That is the only host It can incubate in, one that can harbor both. You cannot have one with the other, unless you are immune. Corrin, you have It, and he will do anything to get it from you. Anything!"

"I have what? What do I have Jack?" Corrin asked frantically. There was a bang. Jack's head blew into pieces. "No!" Corrin yelled as several Imperial's entered the room shouting and firing.

"Keep Grant down!" Ordered one of the soldiers, who looked like a captain. "Lord Riktus is on his way. There was a series of beeps. The soldiers looked around. Corrin listened intently. The Captain looked to the ground. A small object lay there. A red light flashed across it.

"Frak."

As the word exited the Captain's mouth, there was a rush of flames. Fire and shrapnel engulfed the squad as Corrin shut his eyes to the light.

"Think I would leave you behind?" Corrin smiled as he recognized the voice. It was Grange. The adept stepped from the flames, followed by several dirty Mericans.

He laughed and grinned. A Merican hurried to the bedside and released the binds.

"What did you do to yourself?" Grange laughed, looking at Corrin's arm. Corrin lifted his gleaming, cybernetic arm and tested the new movements. It was fluid and strong. He smiled again. He was simply glad to back with his countrymen. Someone tossed him a slug rifle. He seized it up in his hands.

"Now," Grange began, "We're even." Corrin gave him a thumbs up, and they rushed out of the room. Corrin pushed his happiness aside and plunged into deep thought. What was It? What had Jack been talking about? His immunity had left both Devian Mortis strains imprinted in his body, and Jack said that meant something. But what? How would it affect him? How was he the missing link?

The questions disappeared from his head as he emerged onto the occupied street, Grange beside him, and opened fire.


	30. Chapter 30

Corrin dashed down the street, flanked by his allies. His slug rifle kicked lightly against his shoulder as he sent the Imperials to whatever Hell was theirs. They faltered and fled at the sight of the approaching Merican warriors.

"Retreat!" One roared as Corrin swung himself over a small barricade. His slugs bounced lightly from the ground as he downed more and more soldiers. His palms relished in the heat of the barrel as the slaughtered bodies of the Imperials finally fell to the ground.

"The street is ours!" roared Corrin as he looked around. He spoke to quickly. A massive form emerged from the smoke, its twin barrels glistening with fire. Several Mericans blasted into the air like rag dolls as the tank fired its massive las-cannons. There were shouts and yells as more Imperials emerged from behind their vehicle.

Corrin dodged left and hid himself behind a small building. Leaning out, he fired at the oncoming attackers with no abandon. They fell in place as ceased to move. He groaned as the gun clicked. The cartridge was empty.

He rolled from cover and slid into a ditch that had been sliced from the ground by the tank's canon. Slowly, he unsheathed his knife and crouched. An Imperial moved above him. He pounced with the agility of a trained predator and cut the man's chest open. He spun and garroted the next across the neck as blood splattered across his face.

Grange was beside him, firing away at the horde of Imperials with extreme prejudice. Corrin looked for his Merican brethren. He had looked away. There was a blast. He was thrown off his feet. Sharp rocks jabbed into his rough skin. He felt the warm trickle of blood flowing down his back.

There was no time to waste. He pulled himself up, painfully, with his cyber arm and attempted to come to terms with his surroundings. Blurred figures moved about in indiscernible ways. The world shifted focus too quickly for Corrin to comprehend. He had felt this before, shell shock. Muffled words were called from his allies and his enemies as the battle raged on.

He stumbled across the street and groaned as his back panged in hurt. He wept in agony and confusion. His shoulder touched the side of a concrete building lightly. He felt sick.

"Corrin!" someone called. He opened his mouth and let the sickness drain out of his form.

"Corrin, move damn it!" It was Grange. He looked up. The tank's turret was aimed directly at him. He dove to the side. He felt his body being torn from the ground and across the air. For the second time, he felt a sick sensation in his stomach as his body crashed through the broken walls of the building beside him.

He moaned again. Muscles squealed in resistance as he attempted to move them. "Yeah, take up position in this building, first. On me!" Someone called from just outside. Corrin held his breath and ceased to move. Imperial soldiers stormed inside.

"Sir, sir, I think this one's alive." said another Imperial.

"It doesn't matter. Kill him." A tall Imperial replied, his cuffs representing leadership. The other Imperial raised his gun. Corrin blinked. They soldiers fell in a perfect line. Someone rushed to his body and began to drag it away.

"Who…?" Corrin began. He swallowed his words and simply gaped at the man who stood above him. "Johno!" Johnson was silent, not even a smile. Corrin squinted as he felt a piercing in his mind.

_Corrin, _It was Johnson's voice. _Corrin, I don't have much time. _Corrin looked on at the still motionless face of his old friend. _I've overpowered him, but for now. He will punish me._

"Keep yourself alive, Johno! I can't loose you!" Corrin began.

_Stay quiet, Corrin. Let me do the talking. _Johnson continued. _Corrin, you are It. You are the final strain. He didn't know it, I didn't know it, __no__ one knew it, until recently. _

_You have it, Corrin, _Johnson sounded more urgent now. _Y__ou have the Raging Soul, you have the Devian Furis. You don't understand now. You will. You must. You are our last chance…my last chance. _

There was a flash in Johnson's eyes. A desperate look crossed his face. He howled in agony and crouched to the ground. _Save us, Corrin. Fulfill. _

Corrin shakily extended his hand to grasp Johnson, but before he could speak, his friend was gone. He had leaped from the rubble and sped to the Imperial army. Corrin realized his breathing was at an increased rate. He sighed and attempted to regain control. He could not. He would not. His body collapsed as energy flowed, undeterred, into his mind.

He righted himself. He had never felt it like this. He blasted from the building and crashed into the Imperials. Laughing at the looks of terror on their faces, he swiped about. Men fell like hay to a scythe. His energy continued increasing.

He was infected. He was a Raging Soul. One virus cannot live with the other, unless one is stabilized. Only then can it cultivate. Only in an Immune. Only in him. He was the last chance for his people. He was the last chance for the world. As he stood there, soaked in the blood of the enemy, that he realized it. And save them he would.


	31. Chapter 31

Corrin planted his foot into the chest of the fallen Imperial. His arms hung loosely in front of him. He faltered for only a moment, gaping at the fullness of the blood drenching his hands. A second passed. His body careened into the army of Imperials. He roared inhumanly as his knuckles burst through the skin of a soldier. "Corrin!" Someone called over the bloodbath. "There are too many." There were never too many. He was done running. He was done backing down. It was time to give the Imperials something to fear. "Corrin, get out of there!" Grange's voice finally registered in his mind as a great shock ran up his spine. "Take the other Crin, I will deal with Grant." growled the voice Corrin had grown to hate. He turned his head and looked in the direction of the limping Riktus. "Oh," Corrin began in a mock tone, "are you hurt?" Riktus laughed in a way very unlike the man Corrin had grown to hate. The layer of sarcasm was gone. The only emotions remaining were loathing and, Corrin smiled, fear. "Corrin, you understand that you have chosen the wrong side. I feel it. Your loyalty to your country is covering your better judgment." Riktus said, the normal tone retuning to his still shaking voice. "Look at your power! Do you fight for a doomed land, or join the right? I…" "Just save your breath," spat Corrin. "I will kill you here and now." "Corrin, move!" Grange called again. Corrin shook his head. "No, damn it, get out of the way!" His head spun. A tiny red dot centered itself on his eye. "Well played…" He whispered, more to himself than Riktus. He dove out of the way instantly. A blast shattered the glass on a second story window above him. The sniper had almost had him. Riktus had almost had him. He tore around the street. He heard someone following him. His body moved for him, rolling aside. He felt rubble smash into his open skin, but he ignored it. The figure dashed past his hidden position. With a great leap, Corrin tackled him. "Lay off, will you!" Grange shouted. "Sorry!" Corrin almost laughed. The situation was too dire. Grange raised his gun-arm and pointed down the alley, firing at pursuing soldiers. Corrin helped him up slowly, and they advanced down the street. Las-fire shot around their heads. Grange whimpered and skipped as one sprung from his ankle. Corrin drove onward, pulling his friend's injured form around the corner. "No, right, take a right…" Grange stammered. Corrin assumed they had brought some way to get out of this Hell-city. He followed the path Grange indicated, winding along streets. Fleeing Mericans and rampaging Imperials scrambled here and there across the battered streets. They rounded a final corner. A large A-10 sat before them. Mericans surrounded the huge transport, slugs darting from their guns into oncoming attackers. Flares dotted the sky, indicating safe heaven. Corrin realized this was a refugee evacuation mission. He would not be alone. There were others, still trapped in the city. He could not help them. He had a mission. Riktus would move on, his next target: The Capitalis defenses. Then Glory. Corrin could not, his head sunk as he though the word, 'waste' time finding those lost under the rule of the Imperials. Grange pulled himself onwards as Corrin examined the surrounding area. He stepped forward. A projectile soared by his ear. "Frak!" He bellowed. His body fell flat. Imperials charged from all sides. "They're making a final push!" Someone roared. "Everyone stand ground! Get the refugees in!" Corrin looked to see where Grange was. The adept's red cloak was disappearing up the loading ramp of the A-10. He slowly crawled to Merican lines, waving his hand in peace. His body was lifted by several soldiers. "You okay sir? Are you a refugee?" asked a helmeted soldier. "Corrin! Jackson, that's Corrin Grant!" said the other man. Corrin recognized the voice. He turned. "Jasper!" The two men stared at each other. "What are the odds!" Corrin made the Army Sect from his hand. Jasper returned the favor. "Reminisce later! We have a battle to win!" The helmeted man said exasperatedly. He lifted his 36 Shotgun and let loose a hail of fire upon the ravaging Imperial murderers. Corrin turned as well and watched as the empty slugs dropped from the exit slot. Fire blasted into the Imperial line. "Fall back into the A-10!" ordered someone. "We have them! We have the refugees!" Corrin knew they did not have all of them, but the commanding man was right, they had no choice. He began to move slowly backwards, continuously firing. Treacherous Souls began to vanguard the Imperials, making small hit and run attacks. They were a meat shield. He would not let Johnson be so. He moved forward. Jasper grasped his shoulder and pulled him back. "Let it go Corrin…" He muttered. Corrin shook his head. There was a crack. Corrin looked out from the top of the exit hatch. The sight before his eyes was disheartening at best. The Merican flag hung, swaying lightly in the wind. Las blasts and slug shots echoed across the sky as it wavered in the slight breeze. A spark, something light caught Corrin's eyes. He shook his head in disbelief. The flag was burning. Flames rose and embers burned across this symbol of the land he loved. That was it. Corrin knew what this was. He knew what this meant. Merica would fall. There was nothing he, nor anyone else could do. The Imperium would take this, the last bastion of freedom in the world. The others would fall quickly. It was what he did to fight back that would matter. And he would fight back. He would fight to his very death. The exit hatch slammed shut, and the flag was carried into the vicious currents of air. Corrin closed his eyes. He would have one thing: revenge


	32. Chapter 32

"Get back!" Corrin's rage roared. The chute draped over his back like a great cloak. The Imperials stepped back in fear as his Slug Rifle cocked.

"D-don't kill us, please!" One of them pleaded. The other broke down, wailing and shaking. "Emperor protect…" Corrin growled and slowly eased the trigger down. The pleading man fell in a flash. The rifle's nozzle pointed at the disheveled wreck that was the other man.

"Don't, don't make another move." A cold voice muttered in his ear as he felt the steel of a bolter pressing to his head. "I have you Merican. Drop your weapon, and I shall take your life the honorable way." Corrin didn't move. "I have you!"

"You speak to soon…Imperial." Someone else said. Corrin spun in confusion. With a bang, the Imperial fell into a pool of blood. Corrin lunged for the figure behind him and began to pound at him with his fists. "Corrin…Dammit!" Corrin stopped. Jasper lay below him, a look of exasperation burning on his face.

"Sorry…" With the coming of the rage, Corrin had felt a loss of common sense and problem solving. It was always shoot first, ask questions later for him now.

"Yeah, sure." Jasper smiled as Corrin offered him his hand. He took it and pulled himself up. Corrin cocked his head.

"Find anyone else yet?" He asked. Jasper shook his head in a solemn no. "Right, I suppose we move."

"Do you know where we are?" Jasper asked tentatively. Corrin was silent. "Oh come on! How are we gunna find Glory?" Corrin closed his eyes and pointed to the sky. A great pillar of smoke rose, miles away.

"That way." He said flatly. Jasper gaped in awe at the symbol of desolation that was the smoke. "Don't worry, the city of Glory hasn't fallen yet. I know it."

Jasper nodded, "Yeah, just like Mericans to fight on in the face of certain defeat."

"No!" Corrin's voice was booming, massive. It carried across the deep forest and through the shaded valleys beyond. "Merica…will not fall." He whispered, breathing heavily. Jasper seemed almost frightened.

"We make for Glory, now." Corrin sighed.

"Yeah…" Jasper shrugged. "We'd best go now…" They shared the link, and, as one, set off into the forest. They walked in silence for several moments. It was, of course, broken. "Corrin…what do you think will happen to Merica?" Corrin walked on quietly.

Finally, he opened his mouth. "I think we will fight. I think we will go on to the end. No nation lives for ever. Even one day, the Empire of this…Emperor will be beset on all sides. People will not follow him forever. There will be treachery; great treachery. No, his kingdom will fall…as will Merica some day."

Jasper nodded. "But not this day." Corrin shook his head.

"No, we'll fight. We'll thrown these damned Imperials back to whatever hellscape spat 'um up ." Corrin laughed. He had sounded like Johnson.

"Corrin…? Frak! Get down!" Jasper cried. They had strayed into the open. Jasper threw his body over Corrin's and they plunged to the ground. The earth behind them exploded into a huge cyclone of dirt and fire.

"Damn, they've zeroed us!" Corrin cursed. More explosions ensued as the two men stood and began to dash across the open land. More and more blasts ensued.

"They're there! Crin scum!" Someone called from the forest. Las blasts exploded from the left. Corrin grunted as the Furor took some of the pain from his hit arm.

"They're everywhere." Jasper wheezed. They had been sprinting as fast as they could for hundreds of feet, and they were tired. Corrin flung his arm around Jasper, using his superior adrenaline to push them through.

"Come one, just a little further…" Corrin muttered. They broke the forest line and collapsed into the underbrush. "Don't…make…a move…" He ordered flatly. They heard crunching as the Imperial Soldiers moved through the greenery.

"Where are they?" called one.

"Not here sir…" said someone else.

"They couldn't have gone left; we'd have cut 'um off. They must have headed right. Fan out right! Find them!" The first man roared.

They sat in the bushes for minutes, minutes that seemed like hours. Corrin felt days had past before he finally dragged himself up. The Imperials were gone. His arm ached in pain as blood flowed smoothly down the skin.

He heaved Jasper up, and the two limped on. They would not stop for injury or fatigue. They had to make their way to Glory, and get there before the Imperials.

"I know these woods…" Jasper stammered. "Here, it ends here…" And so they broke the forest, emerging on a small plateau. "And below…" Jasper continued. Corrin was oblivious to him, his eyes wide in complete and total awe. "The highway of Glory…" Noticing Corrin was ignoring him, he looked as well. With a cough, he barely withheld a scream.

Below, one the massive highway of Glory, billions marched. All were Imperial. Their armor, a golden yellow, reflected in the sunlight as they called chants of war. They marched in perfect unison, followed by great siege engines. Batteries of artillery rolled across the ground en masse.

Jasper pointed, speechless, as the ground shook. Corrin turned. "No…" The sight before him was the most disheartening. Rank upon rank of Astarte marched on after the Soldiers. Their bolt guns were erect perfectly in the giants' arms.

Looking up, Corrin saw what Jasper had seen. And enormous machine, a terrible construction of destruction; It was a Martian Titan. The Imperials had stolen one, or, the Martians had taken the Emperor's side. Corrin did not know, or care. The Titan marched for Glory, and its massive guns seemed to ensure the great cities destruction. Its enormous head swiveled slightly.

"Down." Corrin spat. Both men did so immediately. It turned back, but they remained down. The army continued to march by, the march to doom. "We have to get to Glory." Corrin pleaded. Jasper sat, still entranced, "Now!" His partner nodded. They stood, and made for Glory.


	33. Chapter 33

"The sky is on fire." Corrin stated. Jasper nodded, obviously lost in his own mind. The two moved down the narrow, winding path through the forest. Corrin could see it. These forests would burn. As he looked up, he saw even more smoke trailing across the lighter clouds.

"We're close." Jasper muttered to himself. "I've been down this path. I…" He turned to Corrin. "Why? Why doesn't this damned fool just stay out of our land! We are peaceful, passive, non-aggressor, yet he charges in and destroys our world!"

"I know how you feel, but…" Corrin attempted to calm him down.

"Well you seem pretty damn content!" the Marine roared. They turned from each other and continued. Corrin opened his mouth, but decided he was enjoying the silence enough. "Sorry Corrin." The words were barely audible, but Corrin smiled.

"This is our country, Jasper. We both hate the damned man more than anything." Corrin spat. A taboo had come over the Emperor's name, but both knew about whom they spoke. The forest was thinning. Corrin could see the mid-day sun between the thin trunks of the trees.

"Corrin!" Jasper warned. "We're in Capitalis." How had Corrin not noticed it? Dozens of guns were pointed straight at the two men. They both froze and stepped back.

"Wait, we're Merican!" Corrin called frantically.

"Oh, of course…" someone said mockingly from the trees.

"_Libertas__Gaudium__Admonitu__!" _Jasper cried. Corrin stared at him. He was speaking Old Tongue. The guns were still. Slowly, they lowered. Several men and women stepped from the forest and took their hands. "Marine Code." Jasper whispered to Corrin.

"Come on, friends." the mocking voice from earlier had turned friendly. Corrin looked at voice's owner. She stood before him, beckoning them on. Her blonde hair fell only half way to her neck, but she still retained some kind of beauty. From her uniform, Corrin could see she was a Capitalian Guard.

"I'm sorry we had to be so rude," she continued. "Of course, you understand that the Imperials infest these woods. They have hungry citizens and unemployed soldiers running on the heels of the army, looting and pillaging the places their lords have already destroyed."

"Have they broken through?" Corrin asked tentatively.

"What, the Capitalis defenses? Hell no!" She smiled and looked back at him. "Think us Guard would fail so easily?" He grinned. He knew they would persevere through the worst. Yet, in his heart he knew; he knew there was no chance. He knew. Why had he become such a pessimist? He hadn't. He was sensible.

He, though, he could save the world. If Merica fell, he would take a million of them for it. He would fight on. He would avenge his country. He would fight with Grange, with Jasper…with Johnson.

"You okay there, Corrin?" Jasper asked, seeing his distressed look. He nodded. Something had been biting at him for days, since the rage had first occurred. He thought back, wondering how long he had been on the road, in war, fighting the Imperials. He thought of the Supreme Commander, the President, all of his friends and family. Most likely, they were all dead; taken by the Imperial war machine that blasted through Merica.

No, it was not that that had been paining him however. It was his mind, his body. Something had come over him, degrading him. It was entropy, he knew. It happened to everyone. But no, he was not aging. He had not been through life. Corrin was only in his mind twenties. It was something else. It seemed the war had aged him, not mentally, but physically. Something was bearing down on his body, and he wasn't sure he could take it anymore.

"Well, my friends," said the Guardswoman triumphantly, "welcome to Capitalis!" Corrin looked up immediately and gasped. The Capitalis defenses were a majestic sight to say the least, but in war they were simply entrancing. Pushing aside his worries, Corrin looked out on the enormous line of bunkers that was the defense line. Sparks and fireworks of death exploded all around, cascading colors drifting across Corrin's vision. Thousands of figures poured in an out as behemoth defense guns struck down hordes of infantry.

Merican flags hung along the entire massive row, every twelve feet, supporting the troops and casting an ever present shadow on the enemy. Guardsman, men of every race and ethnicity, were lined behind these symbols of freedom, firing into the never ending horde without abandon. This was Capitalis at war.

"This way," one of the other Guardsmen muttered. Stealthily, he reached for the ground and felt around, kicking up dust and moving rocks. "Here," he grabbed hold of something and pulled up. A steel hatch emerged from the ground and shone, dirty, in the evening sun. The man swung himself down the man-sized hole it had left open. The others followed quickly. Jasper and Corrin looked at each other and saluted.

Lightly, Corrin felt himself land with a thump. They were in a sewer. It smelled rancid. He felt liquid dripping from the damp, musky walls around him as his feet splashed through puddles of unknown material. With a click, the Guardswoman turned on a flashlight.

"Now, stay quiet." She said, "They can hear us down here. We don't want them knowing. Follow us." And so they did. They made their way through the grimy passage for what seemed like hours. Finally, with a crack, light streamed across the plain. Without words, as if fearing the enemy was above them, the leapt through the exit. Welcome to Capitalis, Corrin thought to himself.

He looked around. They were there. It was no different on the inside in war or peace. Ammunition was pilled everywhere, along with weaponry and armor. Bunkers covered the entire field for miles back until finally. Corrin froze. Until Finally. Glory.

Just beyond the final bunker stood the City of Glory, shining in all its beauty and elegance, yet ready for war. He had finally arrived. It was then that he realized it. He had been prophesying the fall of Merica, but now, it was upon him. He would stand in the streets of Glory and die along side his companions and brothers. It would be an honorable death.

"Corrin Grant?" the woman squealed, pushing him from his nightmare. Corrin nodded.

"Yeah, that's him!" Jasper said, laughing. "He's used to it." She shook.

"I need to get to the city." he said.

"Will you not fight with us?" she asked hopefully, her smile fading. He would, he would fight until death. But something told him that staying at the Capitalis would mean he would never save Johnson. And he would save Johnson.

"No." he mourned. "I can't. I have to go to Glory and prepare. Trust me. What's the fastest way?"

"The trench trains, right over there. Load up and be careful." He didn't even let her finish. Both men turned on the spot and head for it, a small gateway into an enormous tunnel.

"Great, another sewer?" Jasper groaned. Two Mericans saluted them as they walked through the gate way. Corrin spun around as he heard screaming, getting louder. Explosions began, all around the walls. With a crash, part of the barricade exploded into millions of pieces.

"Go!" One of the soldier's called. They were pushed into a tiny car. The gate closed before them. There was a boom as the car shot off. Corrin heard a tiny blast. It was a bolt shot. They had broken through.


	34. Chapter 34

The trench car sped along the tracks at a speed that astounded Corrin. For its heavy and cumbersome weight, the little car was like lightning. He saw slight glimpses of the world above passing by; smoking bunkers, charging men, grey sky. It was truly all out war. He could tell the siege of the Capitalis had ended however. The Imperials had begun to advance.

Jasper sat in the Corner, staring out of the back sight, towards the light from which they had emerged. Corrin sat opposite, perched at the front of the car.

"We don't have much time." Jasper said sadly. "They are advancing." Corrin was simply silent. He hoped they were close. He could not stand another moment without his city, the city of Glory. He knew, finally, he was in his place. He would fight and die here. His corpse would be driven under the soil of the lush city greenery.

"Don't worry," he finally sighed, "I see the light." And he did. It closed, faster and faster; his home.

"What's that sound…" Jasper muttered suspiciously. Corrin looked behind; nothing. His head swung about. Now it was closing faster, and Corrin saw. This was not a light; it was a missile.

"Frak! Jump!" he roared, throwing himself against the door. It split and opened. The two men leapt from the platform and onto the hard, dark soil below. There was a blast. Flames shot from the car as it crashed to the ground below them.

Corrin stood and shook. The pain disappeared. Jasper had no such quality of healing, and Corrin offered him his hand as he lay on the ground. With a grunt, the Marine stood and nodded in thanks.

"I think we hit 'em." someone muttered. Then, Corrin heard him.

"Yeah, bastards will never come out of that mess."

"Frak Grange! You almost killed me!" Corrin bellowed. There was silence for a moment.

"Corrin?" Grange finally asked tentatively. A light clicked on, and a figure moved around the wreckage. His red cloak and enormous, biomechanical arm gave him away immediately. They made a warrior's embrace. "I thought you were lost in the drop!"

"I thought it was just me and Jasper!" Corrin said, overjoyed.

"Come on, its time for you to finally find out what's going on!" Grange laughed. Corrin smiled. He could use information. For the first time, he realized how out of touch he had been. All he knew was that the Imperials hadn't won. Of course, that was all that mattered.

They moved around the burning wreckage of the trench car. Jasper limped along, still quiet. Corrin turned and watched him, still heading up the steep trek. Suddenly, he felt warmth; the warmth of the sun.

He looked away quickly, back forwards. He breathed in a supply of air and looked about. He was back in Glory. The steep pillars of the magnificent city still stood strong, a shield dancing blue light across their silvery metal.

The pathways, flanked by green growth and beautiful flora, were perfect; faultless. And as they moved down the way, Corrin looked at the many familiar, beautiful buildings.

"We're going to Bunker Vectum." Grange explained as they moved across the maze of paths.

"I know it." Jasper and Corrin said in unison. Soldiers marched along the walkways, perfect and powerful. Their will would not break. Corrin felt a strong sense of respect for them. As they recognized his face, he saw many gasp and look open mouthed. He saw dozens of salutes and cheerful nods.

The city began to ascend upon the great hill, Libran. This would be the last proving ground for many, many people like him; many Merican soldiers. They had arrived. As Grange turned the corner, Corrin prepared himself. This would be the first time he had been in Vectum since basic training four years before.

The building was a sturdy and foreboding as ever, its arched, Terran Medieval architecture giving a strong feel, while conveying beauty. Unlike castles of those times, the Bunker was formed from the most powerful steel alloy found.

"We're here!" Jasper shouted, surprising both Grange and Corrin. The marine charged forward and fell to his knees before the great fortification. This Bunker was essentially Jasper's home, as a Marine.

"Come on Jasper." Corrin said quietly as he patted his friend on the shoulder. The Guerilla stood and followed them in, slowly. The door stayed closed. "Corrin Grant." Corrin spat.

A small speaker emerged. "The name said has deceased." Corrin froze in shock. They thought he was dead.

"Jasper Hijurnas," Jasper said.

"Welcome Captain." the speaker said. The door opened.

"I can't believe it." Someone said sourly. "Haha! Corrin!" the voice changed dramatically to a happy, giddy tone. The Supreme Commander emerged from the bunker and made for Corrin. He patted the famous Soldier on the shoulder and pushed him. "We all thought you were dead!"

"I thought you were likewise sir." Corrin said.

"Well, I may as well be. Come inside. So much to talk about."

They had entered some form of map room. The Commander immediately shot for the huge map of the city.

"The Capitalis, in short, is falling." He said as the three men entered. "The Northern Sector has been completely overrun. Luckily, the last trench train just fell from there. They will have a longer time to reach us."

"Sir, the shields." Jasper said.

"That is another problem. They have been bombing for days. We are at 10 percent. Not extraordinary…"

"And what of Riktus?" Corrin asked.

"You haven't heard?" the Commander said in awe.


	35. Chapter 35

"Riktus is dead." the Supreme Commander smiled. Corrin was speechless. Time was frozen. Riktus was dead. What did that mean? Corrin could not even imagine it. It was as if life was purposeless. It had been his mission; his goal. Now, the enemy he had been hunting for so long was dead.

"Back at the Capitalis, some General Infantryman took him out with a stray grenade." The Commander laughed. A General Infantryman, kill Riktus? It did not seem possible. Though, no matter how idolized he seemed, the Dark Controlled was still a mortal man. Or was he? Corrin had seen such dark magics; it was hard to believe anything was impossible.

"And the Lost Souls?" Corrin asked, tentatively. After all he had been through, had it all been in vain? His honor and pride had been taken by Riktus' death, but had his friend been freed? If so, it would all be worth it.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean." the Commander replied, an almost serene look on his face.

Corrin would stand no more delay. He stepped forward. "The Lost Souls! Have they been freed?" He roared. The Commander stumbled backwards and began to shake slightly. There was a silence. The man's face darkened, as he prepared to say what Corrin had feared since he heard of his enemy's assassination.

"No."

Corrin nodded, attempting to keep his face straight. He slumped to the ground, unable to contain himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks en masse. He could not stop them, no more than he could stop the moans and cries. He beat his fists against the cold steel and slammed them into his legs, thinking if he caused himself enough pain he would wake up.

He felt a cold, gloved hand slide onto his shoulder. "Corrin." He ignored the voice, knowing it was Grange's. The ground was becoming wet with tears. "Corrin." He raised his head, his face red with anger. Still, he ignored Grange. "Corrin…"

"What?" he cried, spinning around. His bloodshot eyes met with his friend's.

"I…I'm so sorry…I" Grange began. The tension of the moment was broken as their ears were blasted with terrible sound. Red, flashing lights burst into life all around them, blinding Corrin for a moment.

366, 366, shields critical; 100, 100, walls are under attack++

Pain forgotten, Corrin was on his feet in an instant. Finally, it had arrived. His thoughts had been building up to this for weeks. Now, it had come down to this. He would defend his motherland to the last breath.

He dashed out of the room, Grange and Jasper at his heels. The rushed through the defense door and onto the open streets of Glory. The sky was burning. The shield generator was failing, and fast. Red and green mixed in a psychedelic light around the areas that used to be blue. Visible tears in the defensive energy-fabric were bombarded with blasts from strafing bombers. For the first time in ten millennia, Glory burned.

Corrin's mind returned to the battle as a great explosion rocked the west wall. Dozens of Merican soldiers were thrown across the dust-filled air. Corrin fell in with a huge group of charging Mericans, his mouth open in a gaping maw, screaming his heart out.

They emerged, out of the dust of the war, from the ruins of the wall. Imperials had set foot in his city. Huge figures lumbered from the wreckage, firing explosive death through the air and into Merican lines.

Corrin fired back, meeting their attack; fire for fire. He grunted as a bolt exploded by his foot. Burning embers smoked through his tough army boots. Then, the pain faded. His rage, it was beginning.

It was then that the lines met. Mericans clashed with Imperials. Corrin leapt forward, Imperials parting in fear at his enraged charge. His knife took first blood from a basic soldier, as he moved along. He winced as the sharp blade of a bayonet cut down his back, tearing through his skin. Throwing his elbow back into the ambusher, he dove forward into another terrified man.

The bloodshed continued, Corrin leading the Mericans through the bleak view of the future. He gave hope. His hands were stained with blood; the blood of the Emperor's damned followers. Then, he came.

"Corrin." a voice called, laughing maliciously at the horror around him. Corrin recognized it. Then came realization. It couldn't be! He wheeled around. Jonas stood before him, grinning. Corrin clenched his fists, watching as the treacherous scum spread out his arms.

Corrin's eyes darted to the side, seeing his friends, embattled, and bleeding. "Why worry for them, Corrin? They'll be dead soon!" Jonas cried in a mock soothing voice.

"How?" Corrin stammered, enraged.

"I am invincible." he said, as if it was obvious. "You chose the wrong side, my friend. He has seen it…yes…the Emperor will rule over all."

"I don't change sides, traitor…" Corrin spat. A small gap had formed in the mass combat, enough to create a space for the two men to move about in.

"Fight on, for the Emperor!" Jonas roared, as if blowing away Corrin's scorn. "We are invincible! We will never perish! We will…" Corrin sped for him, not wasting time. Jonas' face turned white, forever frozen in fear. His limp body fell to the ground. Corrin stood over him, foot in the traitor's mouth.

"Looks like you were wrong." Corrin smiled.


	36. Chapter 36

Bloodshed; he had never seen it like this. Astartes careened through Merican lines like a battering ram. Blood spewed from disemboweled corpses, waterfalls of death and gore. Screams and cries of agony drifted across the thin, dust-filled air slowly. They were drawn out, providing more sorrow to the listener.

Corrin stood above Jonas' body. It was put in perspective now; the entire war. He slumped down, holding himself up by his knees. His mouth fell open as his head lolled to the side. Vision blurred, he became sick. Brown liquid burst forth from his lips, burning his throat. His head drifted up, looking ahead. Another blank faced Merican looked back at him, blood splattering his face. The soldier's head was open, revealing a dark, empty interior; blasted apart by a killing bolt.

He looked away, closing his eyes. He caught sight of a second man, rolling about on the ground, enveloped in flame. There was a bloodcurdling cry from behind him. He spun, the reflexes of his rage still effective. It was too late. The Astartes' chainsword was already upon him. There was a blast, and the man was gone. All that was left was vaporized matter.

Grange bounded forward and pulled Corrin from the ground. "Stay on guard, Corrin! You can't just lie down and let this fight go on." He roared. "Remember, these are your people! What would your president think?" The President…Corrin thought. What would the President think? His thoughts were broken by a new alarm call.

Tactical Code: Mass. Prepare for wave++

The Mericans all understood. The enemy was advancing with a human shield, wave after wave. That meant the Mericans had been making some ground, at least. The Imperials had resorted to the worst tactic imaginable.

Corrin turned to examine the victims of the Imperial warmachine: Mericans. Lost Souls, all of them, they wore basic Merican fashion style clothes and Merican crests. The commander of the Imperials had tied mass-genocide, fear tactics, and human shield strategy into a single, devastating combination.

That was when it hit Corrin; who was the enemy commander? With Riktus dead and the Emperor in Jerminy, who had been chosen to take the important position of warlord? Surely the Emperor's warriors would not stay pious long without a supporting, and driving, hand!

"Corrin, Grange!" Jasper bellowed, his voice barely audible above the horrific combat. Corrin had learned to recognize it, however, as he had Grange's voice. The Marine stumbled out of a mass of firing Mericans. The three men stood, looking over the approaching horde of mindless things. They would not even fight; they were of less use to the Imperials than Treacherous Souls. Thus, they would be used as sacrifice.

"We…" Jasper began. Soon, he froze at the words uttered out of the loud speaker++

High alert. High alert. Western Sector Breached++

"Do you know what this means?" cried Jasper. The other two stared at him, bewildered. "The Capital Building is in the Western Sector. They're going for President O'Connor!"

Corrin did not speak another word. The two Mericans shared a bond; a common knowledge. They had to save their leader. Not waiting for the Martian, the two soldiers blasted off. It seemed more were joining them, as the sound of louder footfalls emerged, growing more and more noticeable.

They would save him. They would.

Artillery ravaged the area around them, but Corrin would stop for nothing and no one. Along with the others, he plunged into the fire. The Capital lay before them, its shields failing and at the breaking point. By the time they arrived, the place would be swarming with Imperial vermin.

"They are coming!" an Imperial called in Gothic.

"Ambush!" Corrin warned, still driving forward. If the other Mericans wanted to hide, then he would tell them of the danger. He was ready to die to save O'Connor. The shields broke at that moment, as he left the street and stepped upon the Capital's grassy lawn. Shots fired from all around ricocheting off of the buildings behind him and kicking up dirt. Fire burned the grass in a line, reducing the beauty to a cinder.

He rolled across the blackened remains of flora, firing into the shadowy silhouette attackers. More and more of his countrymen flooded after him, undeterred by the constant attack. Eventually, the shots died out. All the ambushers were dead.

By this time, Corrin had arrived. The lawn broke into a beautiful cobblestone patio, destroyed and ruined by war. "Into the capital!" the others screamed, in unison. "Push them back!" Someone shouted. They would. They had to.

As Corrin rounded a sharp corner, intuition kicked in. His body swung around and faced what lay beyond. Without thinking, he fired upon what he saw. Two Imperials fell to the ground where they stood, guarding the exits.

"Corrin, hold up!" Grange called. "We aren't all tireless!" He realized this was true, and stopping, faced the Adept. Jasper was right beside him, face set in anger. They jogged up, sweaty and fatigued.

"We don't have time to rest…" Corrin spat. "Come on, through this door. We'll head all the way up into the Offician Room."

"Wait, Corrin." Jasper said, thoughtfully. "There is a faster way." He drifted off. "A passage…" They followed him as he made his way around the building. The fight had gone inside, and only the far off fire of artillery reminded them of the war.

Finally, they reached the front door. For the first time, Corrin examined the Capital in full. Bunker Rectum was nice, but it was nothing to this magnificent structure. Beautiful, white marble assembled together in perfect design created a sense of power and great perfection that shone throughout the entire city. Lavishly designed columns were placed every few yards, dominating the mortals around it with shadow.

"Corrin!" Jasper woke him from his trance. "In here." Before Corrin's very eyes, a passageway had been opened. Grange and Corrin stared at the Marine in awe. "Just…defense training. We all learned the nooks and crannies of this place…its really…"

"Let's go!" Corrin urged, not wanting to get lost in deep explanation. And they did. As one, they descended into the small passage in the wall, crawling as a man could not fit through. As they did, something struck Corrin; something he could not understand. Something awaited him in the Capital Building that would change his life forever.


	37. Chapter 37

Corrin stepped back and crouched into a ready position. He was poised, ready to defend himself at the slightest movement from his enemy. "Do you fear me, Corrin?" Riktus asked, smiling. "For you should! Why do you fight me when no man can win? I cannot die. No one can kill me!" Those words struck Corrin like a blunt blade. How was Riktus not dead? With what foul power had the man reincarnated himself in the President?

"What makes you think that you and your insignificant friend are any different?" Riktus questioned. It didn't matter. Corrin would kill Riktus, just like he had sworn. He would kill him, and free Johnson, and whatever he did would eliminate this foul sorcery that had kept the Controller alive.. And with that, he made his decision. His arm shot up, and, slowly, he extended his middle finger. A fair tribute to his old friend.

"Once more, you insult me…" Riktus growled.

"Corrin…" Grange warned. "He's coming." The words had barely escaped the Martian's lips before they became true. Riktus threw his hands into the air. The ceiling crackled with orange lightning as a vortex of flaming energy erupted above Riktus' head. Something flashed in the Controller's eyes; a burning desire; a desire to kill Corrin.

He dove forward, and Corrin met him. The two were caught as one, tossing blows back and forth. Grange leapt at Riktus, but was thrown back like a small stone. "This is our fight, fool!" Riktus roared. "I will occupy you!" With a crackling, something dark emerged from the vortex and made for Grange. Corrin could not focus on his friend. He had a promise to fulfill.

His fist shot towards his enemy's face and connected. Riktus grunted and threw his leg out behind Corrin. With a crash, Corrin fell to the floor. Riktus was upon him in moments, bombarding him with his fists. This was not Riktus at his best, Corrin knew it. Thrashing out, he sent the Psyker flying backwards.

Riktus caught himself in mid air and sat, hovering several feet from the ground. His face was a deformed cloud of explosive electricity. His cloak dangled down, tips alight with magical flame. Corrin's eyes darted to the side. Grange was embattled, defending himself from some form of abomination. Its skin was charred black with flame, and grey-green horns of ivory grew from its head. Hoofed feet knocked against Grange's chest and sent him flying backwards.

Corrin's intuition saved him once more. Without thinking, he ducked. A ball of flaming magics soared overhead and exploded onto the wall. Corrin spun to face Riktus. The man's hand was an inferno, casting scorching beams of heat towards him. The power of a Psyker was truly magnificent.

Corrin took a chance, leaping from his position and to the wall at his right. His feet connected with the smooth surface, and he slid down. The shadow of a desk hid him from Riktus' wrath until he could collect himself. It was happening again. Blood streamed at blazing speed across his body. Adrenaline pumped superfluously. With care, he rolled from his position and stood. Riktus faced him, blasting away at the desk where he had been situated.

The room was bright with the shadow of dancing flame, and warm with the scent of burning wood. The capital was aflame. Neither of the combatants payed this any mind as they continued the game of cat and mouse.

Finally, Corrin made his move. It seemed as though life slowed as his feet left the floor. His body almost floated across the smoke-filled air. Riktus almost looked surprised at the Merican Soldier's sudden attack. Corrin raised clasped his hands into a single fist. His mouth opened into a gaping hole as he brought his arms down upon Riktus head.

There was a crack as bone collided with bone. Both figures toppled to the ground. Their breathing was in chorus, heavy, and rhythmic. "Just give up Corrin…" Riktus croaked. The two struggled for a moment more. Corrin threw himself atop his foe's body and looked him in the eye.

"I," he spat, "hate you." The words took a moment to sink in, and, though they were simple, something in them seemed to touch Riktus. Corrin had no remorse. His fist beat into Riktus' jaw, sending it out of place. Blood flowed from the man's mouth and onto the warm floor.

But his Rage threw him off guard. There was a light. Corrin shielded his eyes as he was thrown backwards. Pain ran down his spine and throughout his body as he crashed into the president's desk. Splinters shot about like a storm, piercing his skin, and enhancing the agony. He slumped to the floor as the desk collapsed.

Riktus crawled forwards until he could crawl no more. The two mortal enemies were lying there, face to face, fatigued and worn to the very brink of human capacity. Corrin's eyes drifted to Grange, who was caught in the creature's infernal grip. Its smiling face of horror was boring in, inches from the Adept's.

Corrin's eyes dropped down, fading. But he would not fail, not today. Suddenly, there was a blast. One of the flaming walls collapsed in its entirety. A dark figure stood in the ruins, tall and mighty in comparison to all others around him. He strode into the room, still hidden by shadow.

"My lord, what has this heretic done?" the man cried in terror. It was Johnson. He emerged from the smoke, a bolt gun hanging from his arm. His blank eyes were set on Riktus. "My lord…" he sighed.

"Johnson!" Corrin beckoned his voice longing. "Johnson!"

"Silence, cretin!" Johnson scorned. His gaze was unfaltering and filled with fury.

"No…" Corrin muttered. "Not today…today things change…" his voice slowly rose. "Do you not remember? Have you forgotten everything that we have been through together?" Johnson was silent, looking on at Corrin. Something besides a frown seemed to be forming on his face.

"Do not listen to him, my servant! The infidel speaks only in lies!" Riktus shouted. Johnson moved his weapon arm up slowly and pointed the gun at Corrin. His fingers were trembling, his mouth shaking.

"Have you forgotten the Ural Campaign? How we freed so many thousands? Have you forgotten the Oceanic War? We overthrew the greatest Tyrant this world has known!" Corrin bombarded his friend with these questions, seeing the guilt rise.

"Ignore his words!" Riktus ordered, his face contorting with rage.

"Do you remember how we fought against him?" Corrin pointed an accusing finger at the Controller. "We fought his armies. He stood for all we stood against! Are you simply turning your back on everything we've fought for? Everything our countrymen have died for?" Riktus groaned and moved slightly closer. Corrin was not afraid. He knew he had rendered the Psyker powerless.

Johnson faltered for a moment. His eyes slowly drifted closed. They opened again, at incredible speed. "I should not have come back for you; after all you have done for them! But I am your true friend. Do you remember?"

"I…" Johnson spoke. "Yes." He took a heavy step forward. Riktus' face was hot with anger. Corrin smiled, lightly, his muscles aching. "I remember…I remember everything." He took another step. "I will not fail you...not again Corrin…" Corrin stretched his arm out, and Johnson did likewise. His old friend closed, as he lowered his weapon. Then, it came. "No!" He bellowed. The weapon shot up again. Corrin gasped. With a crack and a flash, blood splattered Corrin's face. Pain seared from his shoulder, not subdued by his Rage; pain so absolute and horrific, it almost brought him into blackness.

Johnson looked on, horrified. But he did not spend another moment. He spun to Riktus. A series of blasts in succession left the Controlled in a pool of blood, spreading across the oak wood floor. Johnson turned on the creature that held Grange and fired into its blackened hide. No blood emerged as it let out a cry of terrible agony, but it had taken enough pain.

Slowly, it withered, as did Riktus. The two seemed to die as one, their movements slowly descending into stillness. Corrin found strength, but only enough. He brought himself to his feet. Quickly, he stumbled towards his friend. Johnson's eyes slowly faded, then, color returned. The whiteness that had dominated them for so long was gone.

And, as one, they collapsed to the floor.


	38. Chapter 38

The passageway was cramped, allowing little space to move. Corrin moved on as fast as he possibly could in the tunnel. Inch by inch, they were making their way up a steep climb. The walls pressed up against him, seeming to get smaller and smaller. Sweat trickled down his brow, tearing up his eyes. He could not wipe them. He had no room. His head was hot, and his skin tingled with hair standing on end. Corrin was claustrophobic. Yet, there was nothing that could stop him from getting to O'Connor before the wretched Imperials. "We're almost there…" Jasper grunted in a voice that did not assure Corrin in the least. The walls shook violently as the sound of gunfire drifted through the thin steel. They crawled onward, listen to the agonized screams of dying humans. It went on forever. Finally, Corrin had had enough. He slammed his fist into the steel, denting it. The swelling on his knuckles washed away slowly as his new found energy flooded his body. His eyes were blurring. Speeding forward, he left the other two climbers far behind. The passageway faded into a mesh of grey steel color. He rushed on, blindly, blundering his way up the flattening steep. Suddenly, his head broke out in excruciating pain. He stumbled backwards, looking ahead. He had collided, head first, with a steel girder. "You better have been Frakking right about this, Jasper..." He murmured. It was silent. "Jasper?" He could not see behind, his neck only able to swivel so far. "Grange?" He cursed under his breath. He was alone. There was nothing left to do. He pushed on the grate. A mechanical voice boomed into his ear. What do you protect? Corrin froze, bewildered. The voice repeated itself. He delved into his mind. A pass code, what could…of course! "Libertas, Gaudium, Admonitu." he said, clearly. There was a small clank, and the girder fell. He took a deep breath and plunged into the light beyond. "Don't move." someone spat. Corrin obliged, completely still. "Number; rank; name." "11214, Sergeant Corrin…" but he was cut off. "Grant!" a second voice called in surprise. "You may stand." It was O'Connor. Corrin pulled himself up and looked around. The Offician Room was in full lock-down. Guards stood at every steel plated window, ever small vent, and all around the president. The door was covered with dozens of figures, pressing against its grated form; holding it in place. The President motioned for his bodyguards to part, and he made for Corrin. Smiling he extended his hand. Corrin winced, without reason, as he took his President's hand in his and shook. "I've heard stories." He laughed, dryly. O'Connor was not known for his humor. "Sir, you must realize the city is falling. We have to take you from this place!" Corrin urged. The President shook his head and placed his hand on Corrin's shoulder. "Sergeant, I cannot leave my people in the eleventh hour." O'Connor sighed. Corrin shot a scornful look at the bodyguards of the President. How could they let this happen? He had to be saved. They knew the Capital would fall. Corrin had not come to defend a relic of Merica's former glory; he had come to save O'Connor. He would. "No sir, I protest. I am taking you with me." Corrin shouted. He looked to the window, then back at O'Connor. "You will not live if you stay. The Capital will fall. we have to get you away…" "I am the one who decides what must be done, Grant!" The President roared, his face inches from Corrin's. "Don't…" the man breathed a heavy breath "tell me what to do." "I…" "I can stand this not further!" O'Connor cried. One of the guards stepped forward and placed his hands on Corrin's shoulders, preparing to remove him from the President's presence. "No…" O'Connor murmured. "Kill him." All was silent. The man removed his hands from Corrin and stepped back. They all stared at the President, dumbstruck. Then, it came. Corrin was staring at the man he had been trying to protect, eye to eye. O'Connor's face flashed with blue light. "Kill him!" the man bellowed, in a voice not his own. The lights blew out, and the room was suddenly illuminated in blue light, dancing off of the walls and in the eyes of the surrounding bodyguards. As if their minds became set, they all took up a fighting position. Corrin swung about, cornered, the circle of guards closing in. There was a great blast, as the room was flooded with light. The double doors were ripped apart in a vortex of red energy and dozens of soldiers were thrown into the air like rag dolls. "Get the Hell away from him…" it was Grange. Jasper stood at his side. They were both positioned in the shattered doorway, weapons raised, ready to kill. As one, the entranced guards fired on Corrin. He grunted as a single slug pounded into his chest. With new found agility, Corrin soared above the line of shells, blood trickling down his shirt. His own rifle fired into the crowd of Mericans. He shuddered, knowing that he was killing his own. Somehow, their will had changed. They were no longer truly Merican. The fight continued for only a moment as the few remaining guards were dispatched of. Corrin slid back to accompany his allies. The three stood as a single force of impending death, facing the final figure in the room: O'Connor. Jasper stumbled forwards. "Thank God, you are safe sir! I was afraid those treacherous…" He began. "Jasper, don't you see? This isn't the President!" Corrin warned, making for the Marine's side. Jasper turned, confused. "What are you…?" Then, he was gone, his body engulfed in blue flame. Smoldering gore splattered like rain across the office and sizzled on the walls. The smoke cleared to reveal nothing. Jasper was not but burnt ash. O'Connor cackled, his laughter growing louder and louder. Corrin could not move. Fear, for the first time, paralyzed him. In a matter of seconds, the man who had fought in Capar, who had saved his life more than once, and who had become a great friend…was gone. "How dare you…" Grange growled. He did not need to use words. Corrin saw the plasmatic blast rip through the air and impact with the President before Grange had finished speaking. Yet, when the light had faded, O'Connor was not gone as Jasper had been. His body slowly elevated from the ground, fading away like an old photograph. Slowly, Corrin saw it. The man was changing form. O'Connor was no more. A much more sinister figure was taking his place; taller, more slender. Corrin's eyes widened. He knew the features. He knew them all too well. The man landed on the ground, electricity crackling around him in a stormy pattern. "Thank you, friends, for releasing me from the clumsy mortal!" the man lifted his head. "I could not bare such weakness for much longer." Corrin could not believe it. The man that stood before him was grinning, a smug grin. "So, it has come down to this, Corrin; just you, me, and an innocent bystander." It was Riktus.


	39. Chapter 39

Corrin stepped back and crouched into a ready position. He was poised, ready to defend himself at the slightest movement from his enemy. "Do you fear me, Corrin?" Riktus asked, smiling. "For you should! Why do you fight me when no man can win? I cannot die. No one can kill me!" Those words struck Corrin like a blunt blade. How was Riktus not dead? With what foul power had the man reincarnated himself in the President?

"What makes you think that you and your insignificant friend are any different?" Riktus questioned. It didn't matter. Corrin would kill Riktus, just like he had sworn. He would kill him, and free Johnson, and whatever he did would eliminate this foul sorcery that had kept the Controller alive.. And with that, he made his decision. His arm shot up, and, slowly, he extended his middle finger. A fair tribute to his old friend.

"Once more, you insult me…" Riktus growled.

"Corrin…" Grange warned. "He's coming." The words had barely escaped the Martian's lips before they became true. Riktus threw his hands into the air. The ceiling crackled with orange lightning as a vortex of flaming energy erupted above Riktus' head. Something flashed in the Controller's eyes; a burning desire; a desire to kill Corrin.

He dove forward, and Corrin met him. The two were caught as one, tossing blows back and forth. Grange leapt at Riktus, but was thrown back like a small stone. "This is our fight, fool!" Riktus roared. "I will occupy you!" With a crackling, something dark emerged from the vortex and made for Grange. Corrin could not focus on his friend. He had a promise to fulfill.

His fist shot towards his enemy's face and connected. Riktus grunted and threw his leg out behind Corrin. With a crash, Corrin fell to the floor. Riktus was upon him in moments, bombarding him with his fists. This was not Riktus at his best, Corrin knew it. Thrashing out, he sent the Psyker flying backwards.

Riktus caught himself in mid air and sat, hovering several feet from the ground. His face was a deformed cloud of explosive electricity. His cloak dangled down, tips alight with magical flame. Corrin's eyes darted to the side. Grange was embattled, defending himself from some form of abomination. Its skin was charred black with flame, and grey-green horns of ivory grew from its head. Hoofed feet knocked against Grange's chest and sent him flying backwards.

Corrin's intuition saved him once more. Without thinking, he ducked. A ball of flaming magics soared overhead and exploded onto the wall. Corrin spun to face Riktus. The man's hand was an inferno, casting scorching beams of heat towards him. The power of a Psyker was truly magnificent.

Corrin took a chance, leaping from his position and to the wall at his right. His feet connected with the smooth surface, and he slid down. The shadow of a desk hid him from Riktus' wrath until he could collect himself. It was happening again. Blood streamed at blazing speed across his body. Adrenaline pumped superfluously. With care, he rolled from his position and stood. Riktus faced him, blasting away at the desk where he had been situated.

The room was bright with the shadow of dancing flame, and warm with the scent of burning wood. The capital was aflame. Neither of the combatants payed this any mind as they continued the game of cat and mouse.

Finally, Corrin made his move. It seemed as though life slowed as his feet left the floor. His body almost floated across the smoke-filled air. Riktus almost looked surprised at the Merican Soldier's sudden attack. Corrin raised clasped his hands into a single fist. His mouth opened into a gaping hole as he brought his arms down upon Riktus head.

There was a crack as bone collided with bone. Both figures toppled to the ground. Their breathing was in chorus, heavy, and rhythmic. "Just give up Corrin…" Riktus croaked. The two struggled for a moment more. Corrin threw himself atop his foe's body and looked him in the eye.

"I," he spat, "hate you." The words took a moment to sink in, and, though they were simple, something in them seemed to touch Riktus. Corrin had no remorse. His fist beat into Riktus' jaw, sending it out of place. Blood flowed from the man's mouth and onto the warm floor.

But his Rage threw him off guard. There was a light. Corrin shielded his eyes as he was thrown backwards. Pain ran down his spine and throughout his body as he crashed into the president's desk. Splinters shot about like a storm, piercing his skin, and enhancing the agony. He slumped to the floor as the desk collapsed.

Riktus crawled forwards until he could crawl no more. The two mortal enemies were lying there, face to face, fatigued and worn to the very brink of human capacity. Corrin's eyes drifted to Grange, who was caught in the creature's infernal grip. Its smiling face of horror was boring in, inches from the Adept's.

Corrin's eyes dropped down, fading. But he would not fail, not today. Suddenly, there was a blast. One of the flaming walls collapsed in its entirety. A dark figure stood in the ruins, tall and mighty in comparison to all others around him. He strode into the room, still hidden by shadow.

"My lord, what has this heretic done?" the man cried in terror. It was Johnson. He emerged from the smoke, a bolt gun hanging from his arm. His blank eyes were set on Riktus. "My lord…" he sighed.

"Johnson!" Corrin beckoned his voice longing. "Johnson!"

"Silence, cretin!" Johnson scorned. His gaze was unfaltering and filled with fury.

"No…" Corrin muttered. "Not today…today things change…" his voice slowly rose. "Do you not remember? Have you forgotten everything that we have been through together?" Johnson was silent, looking on at Corrin. Something besides a frown seemed to be forming on his face.

"Do not listen to him, my servant! The infidel speaks only in lies!" Riktus shouted. Johnson moved his weapon arm up slowly and pointed the gun at Corrin. His fingers were trembling, his mouth shaking.

"Have you forgotten the Ural Campaign? How we freed so many thousands? Have you forgotten the Oceanic War? We overthrew the greatest Tyrant this world has known!" Corrin bombarded his friend with these questions, seeing the guilt rise.

"Ignore his words!" Riktus ordered, his face contorting with rage.

"Do you remember how we fought against him?" Corrin pointed an accusing finger at the Controller. "We fought his armies. He stood for all we stood against! Are you simply turning your back on everything we've fought for? Everything our countrymen have died for?" Riktus groaned and moved slightly closer. Corrin was not afraid. He knew he had rendered the Psyker powerless.

Johnson faltered for a moment. His eyes slowly drifted closed. They opened again, at incredible speed. "I should not have come back for you; after all you have done for them! But I am your true friend. Do you remember?"

"I…" Johnson spoke. "Yes." He took a heavy step forward. Riktus' face was hot with anger. Corrin smiled, lightly, his muscles aching. "I remember…I remember everything." He took another step. "I will not fail you...not again Corrin…" Corrin stretched his arm out, and Johnson did likewise. His old friend closed, as he lowered his weapon. Then, it came. "No!" He bellowed. The weapon shot up again. Corrin gasped. With a crack and a flash, blood splattered Corrin's face. Pain seared from his shoulder, not subdued by his Rage; pain so absolute and horrific, it almost brought him into blackness.

Johnson looked on, horrified. But he did not spend another moment. He spun to Riktus. A series of blasts in succession left the Controlled in a pool of blood, spreading across the oak wood floor. Johnson turned on the creature that held Grange and fired into its blackened hide. No blood emerged as it let out a cry of terrible agony, but it had taken enough pain.

Slowly, it withered, as did Riktus. The two seemed to die as one, their movements slowly descending into stillness. Corrin found strength, but only enough. He brought himself to his feet. Quickly, he stumbled towards his friend. Johnson's eyes slowly faded, then, color returned. The whiteness that had dominated them for so long was gone.

And, as one, they collapsed to the floor.


	40. Chapter 40

Corrin's eyes were flashing. Red-white light flooded his retinas as the Capital fell apart. A firm had pulled at his shirt, dragging him across the ground. He barely lifted his head, groaning. Grange's movements were stead and set. He moved with a purpose, his arms hanging behind, hold on to Corrin and Johnson tightly.

There was a crack as explosive sparks shot from the wall. The wood crumbled and fell into the open, smoky air of Glory. Grange ignored it all, pulling the two Mericans along. Corrin coughed as his eyes closed again for a moment. The sound of gun fire struck him immediately, as did the cries of the Imperials.

His loose body flipped around and Grange turned the corner. Heat was slowly creeping up his skin, raising his hair. There was a great rumble. He sensed it before it happened. The ground creaked and sighed as it bent. Then, it simply gave in. Loose, burnt out wood collapsed to the floors below, and Corrin's feet dangled from a huge hole in the hallway.

Grange turned, his teeth gritted. Corrin's head lolled to the side, examining Johnson. He felt the Martian tugging at his arm as a strain grew. Finally, out of decaying wood, Corrin was pulled up. Johnson looked horrible. It seemed as though scars and wounds were forming on him by the moment, fresh and bleeding. His mouth was wide, his eyes closed. Blood dripped from his cracked teeth.

It burnt in Corrin again. He knew the pain would go. He knew that his Rage would keep him alive…for now. The virus pumped blood furiously, clotting the exit wounds. It was to no avail. Once again, Grange was leading them across the ground. The blood continued to leak from the huge blast in Corrin's flesh. The pain was going, but the damage was done.

Alert, coolant system breach++

The loudspeaker did not lie. Corrin mumbled a warning, but Grange did not hear. They continued down the hallway. "…G-grange…" There was no pause in the Adept's movements. "Grange…we need to get out!" He screamed his voice cracking. Though he knew saving the three lives was more important, the cry had taken his breath away. He coughed, emitting blood.

He knew his friend had heard his pleas this time. Grange took a sharp left, realization striking his face.

Emergency, coolant leak is critical++

Corrin opened his eyes, only to see light. With a roar, Grange jumped. The window before them shattered, glass tearing into Corrin's skin. There was a thump as the Martian landed on the grass. Corrin followed suit, rolling across the cool lawn. In reflex, he flattened himself to the earth. There was a great blast, and an inferno of flame erupted from every window along the building. Everyone inside was dead. It was over.

He was in more agony than ever before. His entire body was screeching to be let free. Screeching for him to let go. But he wouldn't.

Slowly, he rose. No one had helped him. He felt it, the Rage, building for one last time. "Corrin!" Grange exclaimed, his eyes wide. "How…?"

"It doesn't matter now." Corrin shouted over the roar of the flame. He turned, making for Johnson. His hands caressed his friend's back as he picked him up. It was unbelievable; the feeling. He finally had his friend back. Riktus was dead. Johnson was a free soul once more. He looked back at Grange. "We have to get out of here."

Grange nodded. "Come on!" He urged, turning. "There has to be some way back to Merican lines." They silently agreed, setting off. The charred and ruined remains of the building stood as a simple obstacle now.

Corrin followed the sight of his friend's red cloak around the Capital. Immediately, the two leaped back. Bolt shots sped past them, exploding into the walls of the blown-out building. "I got you!" Grange assured, signaling for Corrin to stay back. The Martian dove out and let loose a storm of explosive rounds at the enemy.

Corrin made his way out carefully, leaning out from the wall. The sight beyond was encouraging. An evacuation jet sat ready, and heavily armed Capitalis guards fired away at approaching Imperials. Scurrying Mericans made their way into the safety of the jet as fast as possible.

"Grange, give me cover! We need to get to the jet!" Corrin bellowed, his voice conflicting with the gun shots, explosions, and firefights. Grange complied, laying down a layer of deadly firepower into the enemy.

Corrin dashing into Hell, shells streaming past his head. The wind blew threw his hair, refreshing him. He saw Merican soldiers beckoning him onwards, shouting. He did not hear them. He did not hear anything. His body's soul intention was to save Johnson.

He crossed the threshold of the plane, exhaling a bated breath. As if the man was ready, a medic hurried to his side and extended his arms. Corrin took a step back. "Sir…" the medic said, motioning for Corrin to give him Johnson. Corrin eyed him suspiciously. "S…"

"Yes, yes!" he cried. Quickly, he shoved Johnson into the Medic's arms and turned. Grange took a step onto the plane, wheezing. His leg bled slightly from a las shot. Corrin looked at the wound, worried.

"Its fine, Corrin." he laughed. Corrin nodded, and took a step towards the exit ramp. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going back out there, to fight!" Corrin pleaded.

"You've got to be kidding me…" Grange spat. "You're not going back! You must be insane."

"You can't stop me now, Grange. I…" but Corrin stopped as a large, warm hand clasped his shoulder.

"It's lost, son." it was the Supreme Commander. Corrin looked him in the eyes, aghast. He opened his mouth. "No, Grant. They've taken the city. We came to find the President, but I assume he is dead." Corrin nodded sadly. There was a creak as the exit ramp slowly came to a close. "We've failed." Corrin simply stared at him. Presently, his gaze moved over the Commander's shoulder and into nothingness. "Now, you need a medic."

"No! If I'm to die, then I will! But I'll die fighting!" Corrin protested.

The Supreme Commander smiled the smile of a man who knew his fate was sealed. "Oh, we will." All eyes were upon him. "I'll explain when we arrive."

"Arrive where?" Grange asked.

"Bunker Ultimum." The Supreme Commander stated.

Corrin felt like a cornered beast. He had been staring out the back view sight of the transport plane for some time. The Imperial Army was like a horde. They were a single mass; an unyielding enemy. They came as a pack, chasing the squadron of planes that fled to safety. Corrin felt like a coward. The Supreme Commander would have to have a great explanation for forcing him to leave the city of Glory to burn.

"We're touching down!" The pilot called from the cockpit. Corrin took a step back. The pain was beginning to seep in again. He knew he would pay a toll for his actions. He was pushing his body to extraordinary action, while it had suffered greater injury than ever before.

Slowly, he sat himself down. The cushioned seat felt comfortable; a great contrast to the situation. Electro-straps tied themselves around him automatically as the plane's landing gears blew out a cloud of steam.

It went down slowly, the engines whining at the pressure. He felt the straps pulling tighter and tighter, imprisoning him. With a thud, they landed. The straps removed themselves quickly and freed him. He closed his eyes and cleared his head. An event was about to take place; an event that would change the world forever.

The sound of clean oil against metal resonated through their ears as the ramp lowered. Several soldiers stood, flanking the exit at both sides. Their hands moved in a wave formation, signaling for a quick withdrawal.

Corrin was the first out, shooting upright and storming from the craft. He was ready for whatever awaited. He heard the Supreme Commander's controlling voice from behind him. "Everyone in the bunker, A.S.A.P! I don't want any slack!"

Corrin approached the bunker, which was nothing large; simply a small, black house-like structure. Of course, his first impressions were infinitely incorrect. His eyes lingered on a man standing by the door, his body encased in full body, black armor. His eyes were reddened by helmet lenses, and, though Corrin knew the coloring was fabricated, the guard still looked rather ominous.

Corrin caught the slightest hint of a smile on the man's black-cloth covered face. The tall man moved his hand to the doorway of the bunker, which slid open on command. "Enter." The black-laden man ordered in a deep, foreboding voice.

Corrin did so, walking across the threshold and into the bunker. The interior was much as he had expected, but the sight of a stairwell hinted that more lay below. Someone pressed up against his shoulder. It was the Commander again. The man moved past him and smiled. Corrin looked around, confused and worried. What did the Supreme Commander have planned for them?

Eventually, as more and more entered, the bunker filled up. The Commander looked around. "There aren't enough of us…" he sighed.

"Several planes were shot down sir. We don't have much time." Someone in the audience stated.

"Yes, well, I don't need it." The Commander took a deep breath. "You see, we always knew this was coming; a day when Glory would fall. Imperial forces have pressed resistance in the east coast to a bare line of guerilla warriors. The west coast has been lost all together. In short, Merica has fallen." He took a step up onto a small platform. "But we were prepared. We devised a plan, decades ago. The President at that time decided that, if we were to die out, they would die with us." Corrin began to realize, slowly, where the speech was going.

"On my command," The Supreme Commander continued, "every nuclear reactor in Merica will go critical and detonate. The Imperial Army in Merican will be devastated; not wiped out, but devastated. It is all we can do in assistance to the free world."

"But sir," another Merican said, his eyes wide. "Isn't there a reactor…"

"In Glory." Corrin said, sharing a link with the Commander. This was what had to be done.

"Exactly. After I give the command, we will have two minutes. Then, it will be over." The Supreme Commander breathed a sigh. To Corrin's surprise, it sounded like a sigh of relief.

In moments, the bunker was in total hysteria. People yelled and screamed, calling out in fear. The crowd beat each other to death in an attempt to escape. Corrin moved back for the door and threw out his arms.

"Quiet!" The words came out in an absolute howl. Corrin's voice echoed across the plains outside for what seemed to be ages. A moment passed, Corrin's face red with anger and curved down in disappointment at his countrymen. "Do it." he spat. The Supreme Commander smiled.

They were all silent. The Commander turned to a small computerized machine and began to tap away at it.

Identification++

The voice of the computer rang out, a sign of the future. "Gerran, Michael, Supreme Commander of Merican Forces." The Commander said, flatly and audibly.

Voice recognition confirmed. Commencing operation _Zero Hour._ The countdown has begun++

Corrin called out for order. Stepping aside, he beckoned them on. "Go, save yourselves, and god bless you." There was a small buzz. "Damn…" Corrin muttered. The wall of the bunker exploded. That was when order was lost. The Mericans rushed from the bunker like a colony of ants. One by one, they were picked off.

The Imperials had arrived.

_80 Seconds++_

Corrin leapt into the fray. His mouth dropped. Johnson. He had stayed aboard! Corrin's eyes roamed across the bloodshed as Imperial met Merican on the grass.

_60 Seconds++_

"Everyone in!" the same order emerged from all six jets. Which one? Which held Johnson. He remembered the markings: "Guardian Angel." In a flash, one of the planes exploded. The motors on the others began to spin.

_30 Seconds++_

Then, he spotted it. A great angel, its cloak the colors of the Merican flag, was painted on the hull. He had never felt the rage like this before. He tore into the combat, ripping man after man apart.

Finally, his feet hit the cold, hard steel of the exit ramp. He threw himself to the floor as it began to close. Smiling, he saw a red-cloaked figure leap in after him.

_++10 Seconds++_

The plane lifted off. Corrin heard the rushing wind running through the final cracks in the exit ramp before the air-seals applied themselves. His eyes faded as the pain returned finally. It was more defined, more horrible than ever.

_5 Seconds++_

He took one last look up, seeing Johnson's motionless form lying across several seats on the plane. There was a great blast and a roar. The united screams of a million souls emerged from Merica as he faded into blackness.


End file.
